The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green
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Title: The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green
Author: Cuthbert Bede
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Most recently updated: December 28, 2020
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN ***
Produced by R.W. Jones
THE ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN
By Cuthbert Bede
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[1 ]
THE ADVENTURES OF
MR. VERDANT GREEN
[2 ]
WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT
"Let the poker be heated" were the fearful words which greeted Mr.
Verdant Green on his initiation into a spoof Lodge of Freemasonry at
Oxford. This was one of the many "rags" of which he was the butt
during his days at the university.
In this humorous classic there is told the story of a very raw
youth's introduction to university life, of fights between "town and
gown," escapes from proctors, wiles of bed-makers, days on the river,
or on and off horseback, and nights when "he kept his spirits up by
pouring spirits down."
These amusing experiences and diverting mishaps of an Oxford Freshman
need no introduction to a public that has already read and laughed
over them many times before.
The great feature of the volume is that it contains the whole 188
illustrations originally contributed by the Author.
[3 ]
THE ADVENTURES OF
MR. VERDANT GREEN
BY
CUTHBERT BEDE
WITH 188 ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THE AUTHOR
<VG003.JPG>
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
3 YORK STREET LONDON S.W.1
[4 ]
A HERBERT JENKINS' BOOK
~Printed in Great Britain by~ Garden City Press, Letchworth.
[5 ]
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAP.
PAGE
I MR. VERDANT GREEN'S RELATIVES AND ANTECEDENTS ........7
II MR. VERDANT GREEN IS TO BE AN OXFORD FRESHMAN ........14
III MR. VERDANT GREEN LEAVES THE HOME OF HIS ANCESTORS ...21
IV MR. VERDANT GREEN BECOMES AN OXFORD UNDERGRADUATE ....33
V MR. VERDANT GREEN MATRICULATES, AND MAKES A
SENSATION ...........................................41
VI MR. VERDANT GREEN DINES, BREAKFASTS, AND GOES TO
CHAPEL ...............................................51
VII MR. VERDANT GREEN CALLS ON A GENTLEMAN WHO "IS
LICENSED TO SELL" ...................................6l
VIII MR. VERDANT GREEN'S MORNING REFLECTIONS ARE NOT
SO PLEASANT AS HIS EVENING DIVERSIONS ...............72
IX MR. VERDANT GREEN ATTENDS LECTURES, AND, IN DESPITE
OF SERMONS, HAS DEALINGS WITH FILTHY LUCRE ..........83
X MR. VERDANT GREEN REFORMS HIS TAILOR'S BILLS AND
RUNS UP OTHERS. HE ALSO APPEARS IN A RAPID ACT
OF HORSEMANSHIP, AND FINDS ISIS COOL IN SUMMER ......92
XI MR. VERDANT GREEN'S SPORTS AND PASTIMES .............103
XII MR. VERDANT GREEN TERMINATES HIS EXISTENCE AS AN
OXFORD FRESHMAN .....................................114
PART II
I MR. VERDANT GREEN RECOMMENCES HIS EXISTENCE AS
AN OXFORD UNDERGRADUATE .............................123
II MR. VERDANT GREEN DOES AS HE HAS BEEN DONE BY .......126
III MR. VERDANT GREEN ENDEAVOURS TO KEEP HIS SPIRITS
UP BY POURING SPIRITS DOWN ..........................134
IV MR. VERDANT GREEN DISCOVERS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN
TOWN AND GOWN ........................................145
[6 CONTENTS]
CHAP.
PAGE
V MR. VERDANT GREEN IS FAVOURED WITH MR BOUNCER'S
OPINIONS REGARDING AN UNDER-GRADUATE'S
EPISTOLARY COMMUNICATIONS TO HIS MATERNAL RELATIVE ..157
VI MR. VERDANT GREEN FEATHERS HIS OARS WITH SKILL
AND DEXTERITY .......................................167
VII MR. VERDANT GREEN PARTAKES OF A DOVE-TART AND
A SPREAD-EAGLE .......................................176
VIII MR. VERDANT GREEN SPENDS A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND
A HAPPY NEW YEAR ....................................184
IX MR. VERDANT GREEN MAKES HIS FIRST APPEARANCE ON
ANY BOARDS ...........................................191
X MR. VERDANT GREEN ENJOYS A REAL CIGAR ...............202
XI MR. VERDANT GREEN GETS THROUGH HIS SMALLS ...........209
XII MR. VERDANT GREEN AND HIS FRIENDS ENJOY THE
COMMEMORATION .......................................2l8
PART III
I MR. VERDANT GREEN TRAVELS NORTH .....................222
II MR. VERDANT GREEN DELIVERS MISS PATTY HONEYWOOD
FROM THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA .........................227
III MR. VERDANT GREEN STUDIES YE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS
OF YE NATYVES .......................................238
IV MR. VERDANT GREEN ENDEAVOURS TO SAY SNIP TO
SOME ONE'S SNAP .......................................243
V MR. VERDANT GREEN MEETS WITH THE GREEN-EYED
MONSTER .............................................251
VI MR. VERDANT GREEN JOINS A NORTHUMBERLAND
PIC-NIC .............................................258
VII MR. VERDANT GREEN HAS AN INKLING OF THE FUTURE ......265
VIII MR. VERDANT GREEN CROSSES THE RUBICON ...............271
IX MR. VERDANT GREEN ASKS PAPA .........................280
X MR. VERDANT GREEN IS MADE A MASON ...................288
XI MR. VERDANT GREEN BREAKFASTS WITH MR. BOUNCER,
AND ENTERS FOR A GRIND .............................297
XII MR. VERDANT GREEN TAKES HIS DEGREE ..................302
XIII MR. VERDANT GREEN IS MARRIED AND DONE FOR ...........309
[7 ]
THE ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN.
CHAPTER I.
MR. VERDANT GREEN'S RELATIVES AND ANTECEDENTS.
IF you will refer to the unpublished volume of "Burke's Landed
Gentry", and turn to letter G, article "GREEN," you will see that the
Verdant Greens are a family of some respectability and of
considerable antiquity. We meet with them as early as 1096, flocking
to the Crusades among the followers of Peter the Hermit, when one of
their number, Greene surnamed the Witless, mortgaged his lands in order
to supply his poorer companions with the sinews of war. The family
estate, however, appears to have been redeemed and greatly increased
by his great-grandson, Hugo de Greene, but was again jeoparded in the
year 1456, when Basil Greene, being commissioned by Henry the Sixth
to enrich his sovereign by discovering the philosopher's stone,
squandered the greater part of his fortune in unavailing experiments;
while his son, who was also infected with the spirit of the age, was
blown up in his laboratory when just on the point of discovering the
elixir of life. It seems to have been about this time that the
Greenes became connected by marriage with the equally old family of
the Verdants; and, in the year 1510, we find a Verdant Greene as
justice of the peace for the county of Warwick, presiding at the
trial of three decrepid old women, who, being found guilty of
transforming themselves into cats, and in that shape attending the
nightly assemblies of evil spirits, were very properly pronounced by
him to be witches, and were burnt with all due solemnity.
In tracing the records of the family, we do not find that any of its
members attained to great eminence in the state, either in the
counsels of the senate or the active services of the field; or that
they amassed any unusual amount of wealth or landed property. But we
may perhaps ascribe these circumstances to the fact of finding the
Greens, generation after generation, made the dupes of more astute
minds, and when the hour of
[8 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
danger came, left to manage their own affairs in the best way they
could, - a way that commonly ended in their mismanagement and total
confusion. Indeed, the idiosyncrasy of the family appears to have
been so well known, that we continually meet with them performing the
character of catspaw to some monkey who had seen and understood much
more of the world than they had, - putting their hands to the fire,
and only finding out their mistake when they had burned their fingers.
In this way the family of the Verdant Greens never got beyond a
certain point either in wealth or station, but were always the same
unsuspicious, credulous, respectable, easy-going people in one
century as another, with the same boundless confidence in their
fellow-creatures, and the same readiness to oblige society by putting
their names to little bills, merely for form's and friendship's sake.
The Vavasour Verdant Green, with the slashed velvet doublet and
point-lace fall, who (having a well-stocked purse) was among the
favoured courtiers of the Merry Monarch, and who allowed that monarch
in his merriness to borrow his purse, with the simple I.O.U. of
"Odd's fish! you shall take mine to-morrow!" and who never (of
course) saw the sun rise on the day of repayment, was but the
prototype of the Verdant Greens in the full-bottomed wigs, and
buckles and shorts of George I.'s day, who were nearly beggared by the
bursting of the Mississippi Scheme and South-Sea Bubble; and these,
in their turn, were duly represented by their successors. And thus
the family character was handed down with the family nose, until they
both re-appeared (according to the veracious chronicle of Burke, to
which we have referred) in
"VERDANT GREEN, of the Manor Green, Co. Warwick, Gent., who married
Mary, only surviving child of Samuel Sappey, Esq., of Sapcot Hall,
Co. Salop; by whom he has issue, one son, and three daughters:
Mary,-VERDANT,-Helen,-Fanny."
Mr. Burke is unfeeling enough to give the dates when this bunch of
Greens first made their appearance in the world; but these dates we
withhold, from a delicate regard to personal feelings, which will be
duly appreciated by those who have felt the sacredness of their
domestic hearth to be tampered with by the obtrusive impertinences of
a census-paper.
It is sufficient for our purpose to say, that our hero, Mr. Verdant
Green, junior, was born much in the same way as other folk. And
although pronounced by Mrs. Toosypegs his nurse, when yet in the
first crimson blush of his existence, to be "a perfect progidy, mum,
which I ought to be able to pronounce, 'avin nuss'd a many parties
through their trouble, and being aweer of what is doo to a Hinfant,"
- yet we are not aware that his ~debut~ on the stage of life,
although thus applauded
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 9]
by such a ~clacqueur~ as the indiscriminating Toosypegs, was
announced to the world at large by any other means than the notices
in the county papers, and the six-shilling advertisement in the
~Times~.
"Progidy" though he was, even as a baby, yet Mr. Verdant Green's
nativity seems to have been chronicled merely in this everyday
manner, and does not appear to have been accompanied by any of those
more monstrous phenomena, which in earlier ages attended the
production of a ~genuine~ prodigy. We are not aware that Mrs.
Green's favourite Alderney spoke on that occasion, or conducted
itself otherwise than as unaccustomed to public speaking as usual.
Neither can we verify the assertion of the intelligent Mr. Mole the
gardener, that the plaster Apollo in the Long Walk was observed to be
bathed in a profuse perspiration, either from its feeling compelled
to keep up the good old classical custom, or because the weather was
damp. Neither are we bold enough to entertain an opinion that the
chickens in the poultry-yard refused their customary food; or that
the horses in the stable shook with trembling fear; or that any
thing, or any body, saving and excepting Mrs. Toosypegs, betrayed any
consciousness that a real and genuine prodigy had been given to the
world.
However, during the first two years of his life, which were passed
chiefly in drinking, crying, and sleeping, Mr. Verdant Green met with
as much attention, and received as fair a share of approbation, as
usually falls to the lot of the most favoured of infants. Then Mrs.
Toosypegs again took up her position in the house, and his reign was
over. Faithful to her mission, she pronounced the new baby to be
~the~ "progidy," and she was believed. But thus it is all through
life; the new baby displaces the old; the second love supplants the
first; we find fresh friends to shut out the memories of former ones;
and in nearly everything we discover that there is a Number 2 which
can put out of joint the nose of Number 1.
Once more the shadow of Mrs. Toosypegs fell upon the walls of Manor
Green; and then, her mission being accomplished, she passed away for
ever; and our hero was left to be the sole son and heir, and the prop
and pride of the house of Green.
And if it be true that the external forms of nature exert a hidden
but powerful sway over the dawning perceptions of the mind, and shape
its thoughts to harmony with the things around, then most certainly
ought Mr. Verdant Green to have been born a poet; for he grew up amid
those scenes whose immortality is, that they inspired the soul of
Shakespeare with his deathless fancies!
The Manor Green was situated in one of the loveliest spots in all
Warwickshire; a county so rich in all that constitutes the
[10 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
picturesqueness of a true English landscape. Looking from the
drawing-room windows of the house, you saw in the near foreground the
pretty French garden, with its fantastic parti-coloured beds, and its
broad gravelled walks and terrace; proudly promenading which, or
perched on the stone balustrade might be seen perchance a peacock
flaunting his beauties in the sun. Then came the carefully kept
gardens, bounded on the one side by the Long Walk and a grove of
shrubs and oaks; and on the other side by a double avenue of stately
elms, that led, through velvet turf of brightest green, down past a
little rustic lodge, to a gently sloping valley, where were white
walls and rose-clustered gables of cottages peeping out from the
embosoming trees, that betrayed the village beauties they seemed loth
to hide. Then came the grey church-tower, dark with shrouding ivy;
then another clump of stately elms, tenanted by cawing rooks; then a
yellow stretch of bright meadow-land, dappled over with browsing kine
knee-deep in grass and flowers; then a deep pool that mirrored all,
and shone like silver; then more trees with floating shade, and
homesteads rich in wheat-stacks; then a willowy brook that sparkled
on merrily to an old mill-wheel, whose slippery stairs it lazily got
down, and sank to quiet rest in the stream below; then came, crowding
in rich profusion, wide-spreading woods and antlered oaks; and golden
gorse and purple heather; and sunny orchards, with their dark-green
waves that in Spring foamed white with blossoms; and then gently
swelling hills that rose to close the scene and frame the picture.
Such was the view from the Manor Green. And full of inspiration as
such a scene was, yet Mr. Verdant Green never accomplished (as far as
poetical inspiration was concerned) more than an "Address to the
Moon," which he could just as well have written in any other part of
the country, and which, commencing with the noble aspiration,
"O moon, that shinest in the heaven so blue,
I only wish that I could shine like you!"
and terminating with one of those fine touches of nature which rise
superior to the trammels of ordinary versification,
"But I to bed must be going soon,
So I will not address thee more, O moon!"
will no doubt go down to posterity in the Album of his sister Mary.
For the first fourteen years of his life, the education of Mr.
Verdant Green was conducted wholly under the shadow of his paternal
roof, upon principles fondly imagined to be the soundest and purest
for the formation of his character. Mrs. Green, who was as good and
motherly a soul as ever lived,
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 11]
was yet (as we have shown) one of the Sappeys of Sapcot, a family
that were not renowned either for common sense or worldly wisdom, and
her notions of a boy's education were of that kind laid down by her
favourite poet, Cowper, in his "Tirocinium" that we are
"Well-tutor'd ~only~ while we share
A mother's lectures and a nurse's care;"
and in her horror of all other kind of instruction (not that she
admitted Mrs. Toosypegs to her counsels), she fondly kept Master
Verdant at her own apron-strings. The task of teaching his young
idea how to shoot was committed chiefly to his sisters' governess,
and he regularly took his place with them in the school-room. These
daily exercises and mental drillings were subject to the inspection
of their maiden-aunt, Miss Virginia Verdant, a first cousin of Mr.
Green's, who had come to visit at the Manor during Master Verdant's
infancy, and had remained there ever since; and this generalship was
crowned with such success, that her nephew grew up the girlish
companion of his sisters, with no knowledge of boyish sports, and no
desire for them.
The motherly and spinsterial views regarding his education were
favoured by the fact that he had no playmates of his own sex and age;
and since his father was an only child, and his mother's brothers had
died in their infancy, there were no cousins to initiate him into the
mysteries of boyish games and feelings. Mr. Green was a man who only
cared to live a quiet, easy-going life, and would have troubled
himself but little about his neighbours, if he had had any; but the
Manor Green lay in an agricultural district, and, saving the Rectory,
there was no other large house for miles around. The rector's wife,
Mrs. Larkyns, had died shortly after the birth of her first child, a
son, who was being educated at a public school; and this was enough,
in Mrs. Green's eyes, to make a too intimate acquaintance between her
boy and Master Larkyns a thing by no means to be desired. With her
favourite poet she would say,
"For public schools, 'tis public folly feeds;"
and, regarding them as the very hotbeds of all that is wrong, she
would turn a deaf, though polite, ear to the rector whenever he said,
"Why don't you let your Verdant go with my Charley? Charley is three
years older than Verdant, and would take him under his wing." Mrs.
Green would as soon think of putting one of her chickens under the
wing of a hawk, as intrusting the innocent Verdant to the care of the
scape-grace Charley; so she still persisted in her own system of
education, despite all that the rector could advise to the contrary.
[12 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
As for Master Verdant, he was only too glad at his mother's decision,
for he partook of all her alarm about public schools, though from a
different cause. It was not very often that he visited at the
Rectory during Master Charley's holidays; but when he did, that young
gentleman favoured him with such accounts of the peculiar knack the
second master possessed of finding out all your tenderest places when
he "licked a feller" for a false quantity, "that, by Jove! you couldn't
sit down for a fortnight without squeaking;" and of the jolly mills
they used to have with the town cads, who would lie in wait for you,
and half kill you if they caught you alone; and of the fun it was to
make a junior form fag for you, and do all your dirty work; - that
Master Verdant's hair would almost stand on end at such horrors, and
he would gasp for very dread lest such should ever be ~his~ dreadful
doom.
And then Master Charley would take a malicious pleasure in consoling
him, by saying, "Of course, you know, you'll only have to fag for the
first two or three years; then - if you get into the fourth form -
you'll be able to have a fag for yourself. And it's awful fun, I can
tell you, to see the way some of the fags get riled at cricket! You
get a feller to give you a few balls, just for practice, and you hit
the ball into another feller's ground; and then you tell your fag to
go and pick it up. So he goes to do it, when the other feller sings
out, 'Don't touch that ball, or I'll lick you!' So you tell the fag
to come to you, and you say, 'Why don't you do as I tell you?' And he
says, 'Please, sir!' and then the little beggar blubbers. So you say
to him, 'None of that, sir! Touch your toes!' We always make 'em wear
straps on purpose. And then his trousers go tight and beautiful, and
you take out your strap and warm him! And then he goes to get the
ball, and the other feller sings out, 'I told you to let that ball
alone! Come here, sir! Touch your toes!' So he warms him too; and
then we go on all jolly. It's awful fun, I can tell you!"
Master Verdant would think it awful indeed; and, by his own fireside,
would recount the deeds of horror to his trembling mother and
sisters, whose imagination shuddered at the scenes from which they
hoped their darling would be preserved.
Perhaps Master Charley had his own reasons for making matters worse
than they really were; but, as long as the information he derived
concerning public schools was of this description, so long did Master
Verdant Green feel thankful at being kept away from them. He had a
secret dread, too, of his friend's superior age and knowledge; and in
his presence felt a bashful awe that made him glad to get back from
the Rectory to his own sisters; while Master Charley, on the other
hand, entertained a lad's contempt for one that could not fire
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 13]
off a gun, or drive a cricket-ball, or jump a ditch without falling
into it. So the Rectory and the Manor Green lads saw but very little
of each other; and, while the one went through his public-school
course, the other was brought up at the women's apron-string.
But though thus put under petticoat government, Mr. Verdant Green
was not altogether freed from those tyrants of youth, - the dead
languages. His aunt Virginia was as learned a Blue as her esteemed
ancestress in the court of Elizabeth, the very Virgin Queen of Blues;
and under her guidance Master Verdant was dragged with painful
diligence through the first steps of the road that was to take him to
Parnassus. It was a great sight to see her sitting stiff and
straight, - with her wonderfully undeceptive "false front" of
(somebody else's) black hair, graced on either side by four
sausage-looking curls, - as, with spectacles on nose and dictionary in
hand, she instructed her nephew in those ingenuous arts which should
soften his manners, and not permit him to be brutal. And, when they
together entered upon the romantic page of Virgil (which was the
extent of her classical reading), nothing would delight her more than
to declaim their sonorous Arma-virumque-cano lines, where the
intrinsic qualities of the verse surpassed the quantities that she
gave to them.
Fain would Miss Virginia have made Virgil the end and aim of an
educational existence, and so have kept her pupil entirely under her
own care; but, alas! she knew nothing further; she had no
acquaintance with Greek, and she had never flirted with Euclid; and
the rector persuaded Mr. Green that these were indispensable to a
boy's education. So, when Mr. Verdant Green was (in stable language)
"rising" sixteen, he went thrice a week to the Rectory, where Mr.
Larkyns bestowed upon him a couple of hours, and taught him to
conjugate {tupto}, and get over the ~Pons Asinorum~. Mr. Larkyns
found his pupil not a particularly brilliant scholar, but he was a
plodding one; and though he learned slowly, yet the little he did
learn was learned well.
Thus the Rectory and the home studies went hand and hand, and
continued so, with but little interruption, for more than two years;
and Mr. Verdant Green had for some time assumed the ~toga virilis~ of
stick-up collars and swallow-tail coats, that so effectually cut us
off from the age of innocence; and the small family festival that
annually celebrated his birthday had just been held for the
eighteenth time, when
"A change came o'er the spirit of ~his~ dream."
[14 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
CHAPTER II
MR. VERDANT GREEN IS TO BE AN OXFORD-MAN.
ONE day when the family at the Manor Green had assembled for
luncheon, the rector was announced. He came in and joined them,
saying,with his usual friendly ~bonhomie~, "A very well-timed visit,
I think! Your bell rang out its summons as I came up the avenue.
Mrs. Green, I've gone through the formality of looking over the
accounts of your clothing-club, and, as usual, I find them
correctness itself; and here is my subscription for the next year.
Miss Green, I hope that you have not forgotten the lesson in logic
that Tommy Jones gave you yesterday afternoon?"
"Oh, what was that?" cried her two sisters; who took it in turns with
her to go for a short time in every day to the village-school which
their father and the rector had established: "Pray tell us, Mr.
Larkyns! Mary has said nothing about it." "Then," replied the
rector, "I am tongue-tied, until I have my fair friend's permission
to reveal how the teacher was taught."
Mary shook her sunny ringlets, and laughingly gave him the required
permission.
"You must know, then," said Mr. Larkyns, "that Miss Mary was giving
one of those delightful object-lessons, wherein she blends so much
instructive-"
"I'll trouble you for the butter, Mr. Larkyns," interrupted Mary,
rather maliciously.
The rector was grey-headed, and a privileged friend. "My dear," he
said, "I was just giving it you. However, the object-lesson was
going on; the subject being ~Quadrupeds~, which Miss Mary very
properly explained to be 'things with four legs.' Presently, she said
to her class, 'Tell me the names of some quadrupeds?' when Tommy
Jones, thrusting out his hand with the full conviction that he was
making an important suggestion, exclaimed, 'Chairs and tables!' That
was turning the tables upon Miss Mary with a vengeance!"
During luncheon the conversation glided into a favourite theme with
Mrs. Green and Miss Virginia, - Verdant's studies: when Mr. Larkyns,
after some good-natured praise of his diligence, said, "By the way,
Green, he's now quite old enough, and prepared enough for
matriculation: and I suppose you are thinking of it."
Mr. Green was thinking of no such thing. He had never been at
college himself, and had never heard of his father having been there;
and having the old-fashioned,
what-was-good-enough-for-my-father-is-good-enough-for-me sort of feel-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 15]
ing, it had never occurred to him that his son should be brought up
otherwise than he himself had been. The setting-out of Charles
Larkyns for college, two years before, had suggested no other thought
to Mr. Green's mind, than that a university was the natural sequence
of a public school; and since Verdant had not been through the career
of the one, he deemed him to be exempt from the other.
The motherly ears of Mrs. Green had been caught by the word
"matriculation," a phrase quite unknown to her; and she said, "If
it's vaccination that you mean, Mr. Larkyns, my dear Verdant was done
only last year, when we thought the small-pox was about; so I think
he's quite safe."
Mr. Larkyns' politeness was sorely tried to restrain himself from
giving vent to his feelings in a loud burst of laughter; but Mary
gallantly came to his relief by saying, "Matriculation means, being
entered at a university. Don't you remember, dearest mamma, when Mr.
Charles Larkyns went up to Oxford to be matriculated last January two
years?"
"Ah, yes! I do now. But I wish I had your memory, my dear."
And Mary blushed, and flattered herself that she succeeded in looking
as though Mr. Charles Larkyns and his movements were objects of
perfect indifference to her.
So, after luncheon, Mr. Green and the rector paced up and down the
long-walk, and talked the matter over. The burden of Mr. Green's
discourse was this: "You see, sir, I don't intend my boy to go into
the Church, like yours; but, when anything happens to me, he'll come
into the estate, and have to settle down as the squire of the parish.
So I don't exactly see what would be the use of sending him to a
university, where, I dare say, he'd spend a good deal of money, - not
that I should grudge that, though; - and perhaps not be quite such a
good lad as he's always been to me, sir. And, by George! (I beg your
pardon,) I think his mother would break her heart to lose him; and I
don't know what we should do without him, as he's never been away
from us a day, and his sisters would miss him. And he's not a lad,
like your Charley, that could fight his way in the world, and I don't
think he'd be altogether happy. And as he's not got to depend upon
his talents for his bread and cheese, the knowledge he's got at home,
and from you, sir, seems to me quite enough to carry him through
life. So, altogether, I think Verdant will do very well as he is,
and perhaps we'd better say no more about the matriculation."
But the rector ~would~ say more; and he expressed his mind thus: "It
is not so much from what Verdant would learn in Latin and Greek, and
such things as make up a part of the education, that I advise your
sending him to a university;
[16 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
but more from what he would gain by mixing with a large body of young
men of his own age, who represent the best classes of a mixed
society, and who may justly be taken as fair samples of its feelings
and talents. It is formation of character that I regard as one of
the greatest of the many great ends of a university system; and if
for this reason alone, I should advise you to send your future
country squire to college. Where else will he be able to meet with
so great a number of those of his own class, with whom he will have
to mix in the after changes of life, and for whose feelings and tone
a college-course will give him the proper key-note? Where else can he
learn so quickly in three years, what other men will perhaps be
striving for through life, without attaining, - that self-reliance
which will enable him to mix at ease in any society, and to feel the
equal of its members? And, besides all this, - and each of these
points in the education of a young man is, to my mind, a strong one, -
where else could he be more completely 'under tutors and governors,'
and more thoroughly under ~surveillance~, than in a place where
college-laws are no respecters of persons, and seek to keep the wild
blood of youth within its due bounds? There is something in the very
atmosphere of a university that seems to engender refined thoughts
and noble feelings; and lamentable indeed must be the state of any
young man who can pass through the three years of his college
residence, and bring away no higher aims, no worthier purposes, no
better thoughts, from all the holy associations which have been
crowded around him. Such advantages as these are not to be regarded
with indifference; and though they come in secondary ways, and
possess the mind almost imperceptibly, yet they are of primary
importance in the formation of character, and may mould it into the
more perfect man. And as long as I had the power, I would no more
think of depriving a child of mine of such good means towards a good
end, than I would of keeping him from any thing else that was likely
to improve his mind or affect his heart."
Mr. Larkyns put matters in a new light; and Mr. Green began to think
that a university career might be looked at from more than one point
of view. But as old prejudices are not so easily overthrown as the
lath-and-plaster erections of mere newly-formed opinion, Mr. Green was
not yet won over by Mr. Larkyns' arguments. "There was my father,"
he said, "who was one of the worthiest and kindest men living; and I
believe he never went to college, nor did he think it necessary that
I should go; and I trust I'm no worse a man than my father."
"Ah! Green," replied the rector; "the old argument! But you must not
judge the present age by the past; nor measure out to ~your~ son the
same degree of education that
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 17]
your father might think sufficient for ~you~. When you and I were
boys, Green, these things were thought of very differently to what
they are in the present day; and when your father gave you a
respectable education at a classical school, he did all that he
thought was requisite to form you into a country gentleman, and fit
you for that station in life you were destined to fill. But consider
what a progressive age it is that we live in; and you will see that
the standard of education has been considerably raised since the days
when you and I did the 'propria quae maribus' together; and that when
he comes to mix in society, more will be demanded of the son than was
expected from the father. And besides this, think in how many ways
it will benefit Verdant to send him to college. By mixing more in
the world, and being called upon to act and think for himself, he
will gradually gain that experience, without which a man cannot arm
himself to meet the difficulties that beset all of us, more or less,
in the battle of life. He is just of an age, when some change from
the narrowed circle of home is necessary. God forbid that I should
ever speak in any but the highest terms of the moral good it must do
every young man to live under his mother's watchful eye, and be ever
in the company of pure-minded sisters. Indeed I feel this more
perhaps than many other parents would, because my lad, from his
earliest years, has been deprived of such tender training, and cut
off from such sweet society. But yet, with all this high regard for
such home influences, I put it to you, if there will not grow up in
the boy's mind, when he begins to draw near to man's estate, a very
weariness of all this, from its very sameness; a surfeiting, as it
were, of all these delicacies, and a longing for something to break
the monotony of what will gradually become to him a humdrum
horse-in-the-mill kind of country life? And it is just at this
critical time that college life steps in to his aid. With his new
life a new light bursts upon his mind; he finds that he is not the
little household-god he had fancied himself to be; his word is no
longer the law of the Medes and Persians, as it was at home; he meets
with none of those little flatteries from partial relatives, or
fawning servants, that were growing into a part of his existence; but
he has to bear contradiction and reproof, to find himself only an
equal with others, when he can gain that equality by his own deserts;
and, in short, he daily progresses in that knowledge of himself,
which, from the ~gnothiseauton~ days down to our own, has been found
to be about the most useful of all knowledge; for it gives a man
stability of character, and braces up his mental energies to a
healthy enjoyment of the business of life. And so, Green, I would
advise you, above all things, to let Verdant go to college."
[18 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
Much more did the rector say, not only on this occasion, but on
others; and the more frequently he returned to the charge, the less
resistance were his arguments met with; and the result was, that Mr.
Green was fully persuaded that a university was the proper sphere for
his son to move in. But it was not without many a pang and much
secret misgiving that Mrs. Green would consent to suffer her beloved
Verdant to run the risk of those dreadful contaminations which she
imagined would inevitably accompany every college career. Indeed,
she thought it an act of the greatest heroism (or, if you object to
the word, heroineism) to be won over to say "yes" to the proposal;
and it was not until Miss Virginia had recited to her the deeds of
all the mothers of Greece and Rome who had suffered for their
children's sake, that Mrs. Green would consent to sacrifice her
maternal feelings at the sacred altar of duty.
When the point had been duly settled, that Mr. Verdant Green was to
receive a university education, the next question to be decided was,
to which of the three Universities should he go? To Oxford,
Cambridge, or Durham? But this was a matter which was soon determined
upon. Mr. Green at once put Durham aside, on account of its infancy,
and its wanting the ~prestige~ that attaches to the names of the two
great Universities. Cambridge was treated quite as summarily,
because Mr. Green had conceived the notion that nothing but
mathematics were ever thought or talked of there; and as he himself
had always had an abhorrence of them from his youth up, when he was
hebdomadally flogged for not getting-up his weekly propositions, he
thought that his son should be spared some of the personal
disagreeables that he himself had encountered; for Mr. Green
remembered to have heard that the great Newton was horsed during the
time that he was a Cambridge undergraduate, and he had a hazy idea
that the same indignities were still practised there.
But the circumstance that chiefly decided Mr. Green to choose Oxford
as the arena for Verdant's performances was, that he would have a
companion, and, as he hoped, a mentor, in the rector's son, Mr.
Charles Larkyns, who would not only be able to cheer him on his first
entrance, but also would introduce him to select and quiet friends,
put him in the way of lectures, and initiate him into all the
mysteries of the place; all which the rector professed his son would
be glad to do, and would be delighted to see his old friend and
playfellow within the classic walls of Alma Mater.
Oxford having been selected for the university, the next point to be
decided was the college.
"You cannot," said the rector, "find a much better college
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 19]
than Brazenface, where my lad is. It always stands well in the
class-list, and keeps a good name with its tutors. There are a nice
gentlemanly set of men there; and I am proud to say, that my lad would
be able to introduce Verdant to some of the best. This will of
course be much to his advantage. And besides this, I am on very
intimate terms with Dr. Portman, the master of the college; and, if
they should not happen to be very full, no doubt I could get Verdant
admitted at once. This too will be of advantage to him; for I can
tell you that there are secrets in all these matters, and that at
many colleges that I could name, unless you knew the principal, or
had some introduction or other potent spell to work with, your son's
name would have to remain on the books two or three years before he
could be entered; and this, at Verdant's age, would be a serious
objection. At one or two of the colleges indeed this is almost
necessary, under any circumstances, on account of the great number of
applicants; but at Brazenface there is not this over-crowding; and I
have no doubt, if I write to Dr. Portman, but what I can get rooms
for Verdant without much loss of time."
"Brazenface be it then!" said Mr. Green, "and I am sure that Verdant
will enter there with very many advantages; and the sooner the
better, so that he may be the longer with Mr. Charles. But when must
his - his what-d'ye-call-it, come off?"
"His matriculation?" replied the rector; "why although it is not
usual for men to commence residence at the time of their
matriculation, still it is sometimes done. And as my lad will, if
all goes on well, be leaving Oxford next year, perhaps it would be
better, on that account, that Verdant should enter upon his residence
as soon as he has matriculated." Mr. Green thought so too; and
Verdant, upon being appealed to, had no objection to this course, or,
indeed, to any other that was decided to be necessary for him;
though it must be confessed, that he secretly shared somewhat of his
mother's feelings as he looked forward into the blank and uncertain
prospect of his college life. Like a good and dutiful son, however,
his father's wishes were law; and he no more thought of opposing
them, than he did of discovering the north pole, or paying off the
national debt.
So all this being duly settled, and Mrs. Green being entirely won
over to the proceeding, the rector at once wrote to Dr. Portman, and
in due time received a reply to the effect, that they were very full
at Brazenface, but that luckily there was one set of rooms which
would be vacant at the commencement of the Easter term; at which time
he should be very glad to see the gentleman his friend spoke of.
[20 ]
Portraits of
MR. VERDANT GREEN AND HIS FAMILY.
<VG020.JPG>
1. Mr. Green, senior.
2. Miss Virginia Verdant.
3. Mrs. Green.
4. Mr. Verdant Green.
5. Miss Helen Green.
6. Miss Fanny Green.
7. Miss Mary Green.
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 21]
CHAPTER III.
MR. VERDANT GREEN LEAVES THE HOME OF HIS ANCESTORS.
THE time till Easter passed very quickly, for much had to be done in
it. Verdant read up most desperately for his matriculation,
associating that initiatory examination with the most dismal visions
of plucking, and other college tortures.
His mother was laying in for him a new stock of linen, sufficient in
quantity to provide him for years of emigration; while his father was
busying himself about the plate that it was requisite to take, buying
it bran-new, and of the most solid silver, and having it splendidly
engraved with the family crest, and the motto "Semper virens."
Infatuated Mr. Green! If you could have foreseen that those spoons
and forks would have soon passed, - by a mysterious system of loss
which undergraduate powers can never fathom, - into the property of
Mr. Robert Filcher, the excellent, though occasionally erratic, scout
of your beloved son, and from thence have melted, not "into thin
air," but into a residuum whose mass might be expressed by the
equivalent of coins of a thin and golden description, - if you could
but have foreseen this, then, infatuated but affectionate parent, you
would have been content to have let your son and heir represent the
ancestral wealth by mere electro-plate, albata, or any sham that
would equally well have served his purpose!
As for Miss Virginia Verdant, and the other woman portion of the
Green community, they fully occupied their time until the day of
separation came, by elaborating articles of feminine workmanship, as
~souvenirs~, by which dear Verdant might, in the land of the strangers,
recall visions of home. These were presented to him with all due
state on the morning of the day previous to that on which he was to
leave the home of his ancestors.
All the articles were useful as well as ornamental. There was a
purse from Helen, which, besides being a triumph of art in the way of
bead decoration, was also, it must be allowed, a very useful present,
unless one happened to carry one's riches in a ~porte-monnaie~.
There was a pair of braces from Mary, worked with an ecclesiastical
pattern of a severe character - very appropriate for academical wear,
and extremely effective for all occasions when the coat had to be
taken off in public. And there was a watch-pocket from Fanny, to
hang over Verdant's night-capped head, and serve as a depository for
the golden mechanical turnip that had been handed down in the family,
as a watch, for the last three generations. And
[22 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
there was a pair of woollen comforters knit by Miss Virginia's own
fair hands; and there were other woollen articles of domestic use,
which were contributed by Mrs. Green for her son's personal comfort.
To these, Miss Virginia thoughtfully added an infallible recipe for
the toothache, - an infliction to which she was a martyr, and for the
general relief of which in others, she constituted herself a species
of toothache missionary; for, as she said, "You might, my dear
Verdant, be seized with that painful disease, and not have me by your
side to cure <VG022.JPG> it": which it was very probable he would
not, if college rules were strictly carried out at Brazenface.
All these articles were presented to Mr. Verdant Green with many
speeches and great ceremony; while Mr. Green stood by, and smiled
benignantly upon the scene, and his son beamed through his glasses
(which his defective sight obliged him constantly to wear) with the
most serene aspect.
It was altogether a great day of preparation, and one which it was
well for the constitution of the household did not happen very often;
for the house was reduced to that summerset condition usually known
in domestic parlance as "upside down." Mr. Verdant Green personally
superintended the packing of his goods; a performance which was only
effected by the united strength of the establishment. Butler,
Footman, Coachman, Lady's-maid, Housemaid, and Buttons were all
pressed into the service; and the coachman, being a man of
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 23]
some weight, was found to be of great use in effecting a junction of
the locks and hasps of over-filled book-boxes. It was astonishing to
see all the amount of literature that Mr. Verdant Green was about to
convey to the seat of learning: there was enough to stock a small
Bodleian. As the owner stood, with his hands behind him, placidly
surveying the scene of preparation, a meditative spectator might have
possibly compared him to the hero of the engraving "Moses going to
the fair," that was then hanging just over his head; for no one could
have set out for the great Oxford booth of this Vanity Fair with more
simplicity and trusting confidence than Mr. Verdant Green.
When the trunks had at last been packed, they were then, by the
thoughtful suggestion of Miss Virginia, provided each with a canvas
covering, after the manner of the luggage of <VG023.JPG> females, and
labelled with large direction-cards filled with the most ample
particulars concerning their owner and his destination.
It had been decided that Mr. Verdant Green, instead of reaching
Oxford by rail, should make his ~entree~ behind the four horses that
drew the Birmingham and Oxford coach; - one of the few four-horse
coaches that still ran for any distance*; and which, as the more
pleasant means of conveyance, was generally patronized by Mr. Charles
Larkyns in preference to the rail; for the coach passed within three
miles of the Manor Green, whereas the nearest railway was at a much
greater distance, and could not be so conveniently reached. Mr.
Green had determined upon accompanying Verdant to Oxford, that he
might have the satisfaction of seeing him safely landed there, and
might also himself form an acquaintance with a city of which he had
heard so much, and which would be doubly interesting to him now that
his son was enrolled a member of its University. Their seats had
been secured a fortnight previous; for the rector had told Mr. Green
that so many men went up by the coach, that unless he made an early
application,
---
* This well-known coach ceased to run between Birmingham and Oxford
in the last week of August 1852, on the opening of the Birmingham
and Oxford Railway.
-=-
[24 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
he would altogether fail in obtaining places; so a letter had been
dispatched to "the Swan" coach-office at Birmingham, from which place
the coach started, and two outside seats had been put at Mr. Green's
disposal.
The day at length arrived, when Mr. Verdant Green for the first time
in his life (on any important occasion) was to leave the paternal
roof; and it must be confessed that it was a proceeding which caused
him some anxiety, and that he was not <VG024.JPG> sorry when the
carriage was at the door to bear him away, before (shall it be
confessed?) his tears had got the mastery over him. As it was, by
the judicious help of his sisters, he passed the Rubicon in
courageous style, and went through the form of breakfast with the
greatest hilarity, although with several narrow escapes of
suffocation from choking. The thought that he was going to be an
Oxford MAN fortunately assisted him in the preservation of that
tranquil dignity and careless ease which he considered to be the
necessary adjuncts of the manly character, more especially as
developed in that peculiar biped he was about to be transformed into;
and Mr. Verdant Green was enabled to say "Good-by" with a firm voice
and undimmed spectacles.
All crowded to the door to have a last shake of the hand;
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 25]
the maid-servants peeped from the upper windows; and Miss Virginia
sobbed out a blessing, which was rendered of a striking and original
character by being mixed up with instructions never to forget what
she had taught him in his Latin grammar, and always to be careful to
guard against the toothache. And amid the good-byes and write-oftens
that usually accompany a departure, the carriage rolled down the
avenue to the lodge, where was Mr. Mole the gardener, and also Mrs.
Mole, and, moreover, the Mole olive-branches, all gathered at the
open gate to say farewell to the young master. And just as they were
about to mount the hill leading out of the village, who should be
there but the rector lying in wait for them and ready to walk up the
hill by their side, and say a few kindly words at parting. Well
might Mr. Verdant Green begin to regard himself as the topic of the
village, and think that going to Oxford was really an affair of some
importance.
They were in good time for the coach; and the ringing notes of the
guard's bugle made them aware of its approach some time before they
saw it rattling merrily along in its cloud of dust. What a sight it
was when it did come near! The cloud that had enveloped it was
discovered to be not dust only, but smoke from the cigars,
meerschaums, and short clay pipes of a full complement of gentlemen
passengers, scarcely one of whom seemed to have passed his twentieth
year. No bonnet betokening a female traveller could be seen either
inside or out; and that lady was indeed lucky who escaped being an
inside passenger on the following day. Nothing but a lapse of time,
or the complete re-lining of the coach, could purify it from the
attacks of the four gentlemen who were now doing their best to
convert it into a divan; and the consumption of tobacco on that day
between Birmingham and Oxford must have materially benefited the
revenue. The passengers were not limited to the two-legged ones,
there were four-footed ones also. Sporting dogs, fancy dogs, ugly
dogs, rat-killing dogs, short-haired dogs, long-haired dogs, dogs
like muffs, dogs like mops, dogs of all colours and of all breeds and
sizes, appeared thrusting out their black noses from all parts of the
coach. Portmanteaus were piled upon the roof; gun-boxes peeped out
suspiciously here and there; bundles of sticks, canes, foils,
fishing-rods, and whips, appeared strapped together in every
direction; while all round about the coach,
"Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads,"
hat-boxes dangled in leathery profusion. The Oxford coach on an
occasion like this was a sight to be remembered.
A "Wo-ho-ho, my beauties!" brought the smoking wheelers upon their
haunches; and Jehu, saluting with his elbow and
[26 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
whip finger, called out in the husky voice peculiar to a
dram-drinker, "Are you the two houtside gents for Hoxfut?" To which
Mr. Green replied in the affirmative; and while the luggage (the
canvas-covered, ladylike look of which was such a contrast to that of
the other passengers) was being quickly transferred to the coach-top,
he and Verdant ascended to the places reserved for them behind the
coachman. Mr. Green saw at a glance that all the passengers were
Oxford men, dressed in every variety of Oxford fashion, and
exhibiting a pleasing diversity of Oxford manners. Their private
remarks on the two new-comers were, like stage "asides," perfectly
audible.
"Decided case of governor!" said one.
"Undoubted ditto of freshman!" observed another.
"Looks ferociously mild in his gig-lamps!" remarked a third, alluding
to Mr. Verdant Green's spectacles.
"And jolly green all over!" wound up a fourth.
Mr. Green, hearing his name (as he thought) mentioned, turned to the
small young gentleman who had spoken, and politely said, "Yes, my
name is Green; but you have the advantage of me, sir."
"Oh! have I?" replied the young gentleman in the most affable manner,
and not in the least disconcerted; "my name's Bouncer: I remember
seeing you when I was a babby. How's the old woman?" And without
waiting to hear Mr. Green loftily reply, "Mrs. Green - my WIFE, sir -
is quite well - and I do NOT remember to have seen you, or ever heard
your name, sir!" - little Mr. Bouncer made some most unearthly noises
on a post-horn as tall as himself, which he had brought for the
delectation of himself and his friends, and the alarm of every
village they passed through.
"Never mind the dog, sir," said the gentleman who sat between Mr.
Bouncer and Mr. Green; "he won't hurt you. It's only his play; he
always takes notice of strangers."
"But he is tearing my trousers," expostulated Mr. Green, who was by
no means partial to the "play" of a thoroughbred terrier.
"Ah! he's an uncommon sensible dog," observed his master; "he's
always on the look-out for rats everywhere. It's the Wellington
boots that does it; he's accustomed to have a rat put into a boot,
and he worries it out how he can. I daresay he thinks you've got one
in yours."
"But I've got nothing of the sort, sir; I must request you to keep
your dog--" A violent fit of coughing, caused by a well-directed
volley of smoke from his neighbour's lips, put a stop to Mr. Green's
expostulations.
"I hope my weed is no annoyance?" said the gentleman; "if it is, I
will throw it away."
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 27]
To which piece of politeness Mr. Green could, of course, only reply,
between fits of coughing, "Not in the least I - assure you, - I am
very fond - of tobacco - in the open air."
"Then I daresay you'll do as we are doing, and smoke a weed
yourself," said the gentleman, as he offered Mr. Green a plethoric
cigar-case. But Mr. Green's expression of approbation regarding
tobacco was simply theoretical; so he treated his neighbour's offer
as magazine editors do the MSS. of unknown contributors - it was
"declined with thanks."
Mr. Verdant Green had already had to make a similar reply to a like
proposal on the part of his left-hand neighbour, who was now
expressing violent admiration for our hero's top-coat.
"Ain't that a good style of coat, Charley?" he observed to his
neighbour. "I wish I'd seen it before I got this over-coat! There's
something sensible about a real, unadulterated top-coat; and there's a
style in the way in which they've let down the skirts, and put on the
velvet collar and cuffs regardless of expense, that really quite goes
to one's heart. Now I daresay the man that built that," he said,
more particularly addressing the owner of the coat, "condescends to
live in a village, and waste his sweetness on the desert air, while a
noble field might be found for his talent in a University town. That
coat will make quite a sensation in Oxford. Won't it, Charley?"
And when Charley, quoting a popular actor (totally unknown to our
hero), said, "I believe you, my bo-oy!" Mr. Verdant Green began to
feel quite proud of the abilities of their village tailor, and
thought what two delightful companions he had met with. The rest of
the journey further cemented (as he thought) their friendship; so
that he was fairly astonished, when on meeting them the next day
they stared him full in the face, and passed on without taking any
more notice of him. But freshmen cannot learn the mysteries of
college etiquette in a day.
However, we are anticipating. They had not yet got to Oxford,
though, from the pace at which they were going, it appeared as if
they would soon reach there; for the coachman had given up his seat
and the reins to the box-passenger, who appeared to be as used to the
business as the coachman himself; and he was now driving them, not
only in a most scientific manner, but also at a great pace. Mr.
Green was not particularly pleased with the change in the
four-wheeled government; but when they went down a hill at a quick
trot, the heavy luggage making the coach rock to and fro with the
speed, his fears increased painfully. They culminated, as the trot
increased into a canter, and then broke into a gallop as they swept
along the level road at the bottom of the hill, and rattled up the
rise of another. As the horses walked over the brow
[28 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
of the hill, with smoking flanks and jingling harness, Mr. Green
recovered sufficient breath to expostulate with the coachman for
suffering - "a mere lad," he was about to say <VG028.JPG>
but fortunately checked himself in time, - for suffering any one else
than the regular driver to have the charge of the coach. "You never
fret yourself about that, sir," replied the man; "I knows my
bis'ness, as well as my dooties to self and purprietors, and I'd
never go for to give up the ribbins to any party but wot had showed
hisself fitted to 'andle 'em. And I think I may say this for the
genelman as has got 'em now, that
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 29]
he's fit to be fust vip to the Queen herself; and I'm proud to call
him my poople. Why, sir, - if his honour here will pardon me for
makin' so free, - this 'ere gent is Four-in-hand Fosbrooke, of which
you ~must~ have heerd on."
Mr. Green replied that he had not had that pleasure.
"Ah! a pleasure you ~may~ call it, sir, with parfect truth," replied
the coachman; "but, lor bless me, sir, weer ~can~ you have lived?"
The "poople" who had listened to this, highly amused, slightly turned
his head, and said to Mr. Green, "Pray don't feel any alarm, sir; I
believe you are quite safe under my guidance. This is not the first
time by many that I have driven this coach, - not to mention others;
and you may conclude that I should not have gained the ~sobriquet~ to
which my worthy friend has alluded without having ~some~ pretensions
to a knowledge of the art of driving."
Mr. Green murmured his apologies for his mistrust, - expressed perfect
faith in Mr. Fosbrooke's skill - and then lapsed into silent
meditation on the various arts and sciences in which the gentlemen of
the University of Oxford seemed to be most proficient, and pictured
to himself what would be his feelings if he ever came to see Verdant
driving a coach! There certainly did not appear to be much
probability of such an event; but can any ~pater familias~ say what
even the most carefully brought up young Hopeful will do when he has
arrived at years of indiscretion?
Altogether, Mr. Green did not particularly enjoy the journey.
Besides the dogs and cigars, which to him were equal nuisances,
little Mr. Bouncer was perpetually producing unpleasant post-horn
effects, - which he called "sounding his octaves," - and destroying the
effect of the airs on the guard's key-bugle, by joining in them at
improper times and with discordant measures. Mr. Green, too, could
not but perceive that the majority of the conversation that was
addressed to himself and his son (though more particularly to the
latter), although couched in politest form, was yet of a tendency
calculated to "draw them out" for the amusement of their
fellow-passengers. He also observed that the young gentlemen
severally exhibited great capacity for the beer of Bass and the
porter of Guinness, and were not averse even to liquids of a more
spirituous description. Moreover, Mr. Green remarked that the
ministering Hebes were invariably addressed by their Christian names,
and were familiarly conversed with as old acquaintances; most of them
receiving direct offers of marriage or the option of putting up the
banns on any Sunday in the middle of the week; while the inquiries
after their grandmothers and the various members of their family
circles were both numerous and gratifying. In
[30 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
all these verbal encounters little Mr. Bouncer particularly
distinguished himself.
Woodstock was reached: "Four-in-hand Fosbrooke" gave up the reins to
the professional Jehu; and at last the towers, spires, and domes of
Oxford appeared in sight. The first view of the City of Colleges is
always one that will be long remembered. Even the railway traveller,
who enters by the least imposing approach, and can scarcely see that
he is in Oxford before he has reached Folly Bridge, must yet regard
the city with mingled feelings of delight and surprise as he looks
across the Christ Church meadows and rolls past the Tom Tower. But
he who approaches Oxford from the Henley Road, and looks upon that
unsurpassed prospect from Magdalen Bridge, - or he who enters the
city, as Mr. Green did, from the Woodstock Road, and rolls down the
shady avenue of St. Giles', between St. John's College and the Taylor
Buildings, and past the graceful Martyrs' Memorial, will receive
impressions such as probably no other city in the world could
convey.
As the coach clattered down the Corn-market, and turned the corner by
Carfax into High Street, Mr. Bouncer, having been compelled in
deference to University scruples to lay aside his post-horn, was
consoling himself by chanting the following words, selected probably
in compliment to Mr. Verdant Green.
"To Oxford, a Freshman so modest,
I enter'd one morning in March;
And the figure I cut was the oddest,
All spectacles, choker, and starch.
Whack fol lol, lol iddity, &c.
From the top of 'the Royal Defiance,'
Jack Adams, who coaches so well,
Set me down in these regions of science,
In front of the Mitre Hotel.
Whack fol lol, lol iddity, &c.
'Sure never man's prospects were brighter,'
I said, as I jumped from my perch;
'So quickly arrived at the Mitre,
Oh, I'm sure, to get on in the Church!'
Whack fol lol, lol iddity, &c."
By the time Mr. Bouncer finished these words, the coach appropriately
drew up at the "Mitre," and the passengers tumbled off amid a knot of
gownsmen collected on the pavement to receive them. But no sooner
were Mr. Green and our hero set down, than they were attacked by a
horde of the aborigines of Oxford, who, knowing by vulture-like
sagacity the aspect of a freshman and his governor, swooped down upon
them in the guise of impromptu porters, and made an indiscriminate
attack upon the luggage. It was only by the display of the greatest
presence of mind that Mr. Verdant Green recovered his effects, and
prevented his canvas-covered boxes from being
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 31]
<VG031-1.JPG>
carried off in the wheel-barrows that were trundling off in all
directions to the various colleges. <VG031-2.JPG>
[32 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
But at last all were safely secured. And soon, when a snug dinner
had been discussed in a quiet room, and a bottle of the famous
(though I have heard some call it "in-famous") Oxford port had been
produced, Mr. Green, under its kindly influence, opened his heart to
his son, and gave him much advice as to his forthcoming University
career; being, of course, well calculated to do this from his
intimate acquaintance with the subject.
Whether it was the extra glass of port, or whether it was the
<VG032.JPG> nature of his father's discourse, or whether it was the
novelty of his situation, or whether it was all these circumstances
combined, yet certain it was that Mr. Verdant Green's first night in
Oxford was distinguished by a series, or rather confusion, of most
remarkable dreams, in which bishops, archbishops, and hobgoblins
elbowed one another for precedence; a beneficent female crowned him
with laurel, while Fame lustily proclaimed the honours he had
received, and unrolled the class-list in which his name had first
rank.
Sweet land of visions, that will with such ease confer even a
~treble~ first upon the weary sleeper, why must he awake from thy
gentle thraldom, to find the class-list a stern reality, and
Graduateship too often but an empty dream!
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 33]
CHAPTER IV.
MR. VERDANT GREEN BECOMES AN OXFORD UNDERGRADUATE.
MR. VERDANT GREEN arose in the morning more or less refreshed; and
after breakfast proceeded with his father to Brazenface College to
call upon the Master; the porter directed them where to go, and they
sent up their cards. Dr. Portman was at home, and they were soon
introduced to his presence.
Instead of the stern, imposing-looking personage that Mr. Verdant
Green had expected to see in the ruler among dons, and the terror of
offending undergraduates, the master of Brazenface was a mild-looking
old gentleman, with an inoffensive amiability of expression and a
shy, retiring manner that seemed to intimate that he was more alarmed
at the strangers than they had need to be at him. Dr. Portman seemed
to be quite a part of his college, for he had passed the greatest
portion of his life there. He had graduated there, he had taken
Scholarships there, he had even gained a prize-poem there; he had
been elected a Fellow there, he had become a Tutor there, he had been
Proctor and College Dean there; there, during the long vacation, he
had written his celebrated "Disquisition on the Greek Particles,"
afterwards published in eight octavo volumes; and finally, there he
had been elected Master of his college, in which office, honoured and
respected, he appeared likely to end his days. He was unmarried;
perhaps he had never found time to think of a wife; perhaps he had
never had the courage to propose for one; perhaps he had met with
early crosses and disappointments, and had shrined in his heart a
fair image that should never be displaced. Who knows? for dons are
mortals, and have been undergraduates once.
The little hair he had was of a silvery white, although his eye-brows
retained their black hue; and to judge from the fine fresh-coloured
features and the dark eyes that were now nervously twinkling upon Mr.
Green, Dr. Portman must, in his more youthful days, have had an ample
share of good looks. He was dressed in an old-fashioned reverend
suit of black, with knee-breeches and gaiters, and a massive
watch-seal dangling from under his waistcoat, and was deep in the
study of his favourite particles. He received our hero and his
father both nervously and graciously, and bade them be seated.
"I shall al-ways," he said, in monosyllabic tones, as though he were
reading out of a child's primer, - "I shall al-ways be glad to see any
of the young friends of my old col-lege friend Lar-kyns; and I do
re-joice to be a-ble to serve you, Mis-ter Green; and I hope your
son, Mis-ter, Mis-ter Vir---Vir-gin-ius,--"
[34 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"Verdant, Dr. Portman," interrupted Mr. Green, suggestively,
"Verdant."
"Oh! true, true, true! and I do hope that he will be a ve-ry good
young man, and try to do hon-our to his col-lege."
"I trust he will, indeed, sir," replied Mr. Green; "it is the great
wish of my heart. And I am sure that you will find my son both quiet
and orderly in his conduct, regular in his duties, and always in bed
by ten o'clock."
"Well, I hope so too, Mis-ter Green," said Dr. Portman,
monosyllabically; "but all the young gen-tle-men do pro-mise to be
regu-lar and or-der-ly when they first come up, but a <VG034.JPG>
term makes a great dif-fer-ence. But I dare say my young friend
Mis-ter Vir-gin-ius,---"
"Verdant," smilingly suggested Mr. Green.
"I beg your par-don," apologized Dr. Portman; "but I dare say that he
will do as you say, for in-deed, my friend Lar-kyns speaks well of
him."
"I am delighted - proud!" murmured Mr. Green, while Verdant felt
himself blushing up to his spectacles.
"We are ve-ry full," Dr. Portman went on to say, "but as I do ex-pect
great things from Mis-ter Vir-gin --- Verdant, Verdant, I have put some
rooms at his ser-vice; and if you would like to see them, my ser-vant
shall shew you the way." The servant was accordingly summoned, and
received orders to that effect; while the Master told Verdant that he
must,
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 35]
at two o'clock, present himself to Mr. Slowcoach, his tutor, who
would examine him for his matriculation.
"I am sor-ry, Mis-ter Green," said Dr. Portman, "that my
en-gage-ments will pre-vent me from ask-ing you and Mis-ter Virg--
Ver-dant, to dine with me to-day; but I do hope that the next time
you come to Ox-ford I shall be more for-tu-nate."
Old John, the Common-room man, who had heard this speech made to
hundreds of "governors" through many generations of freshmen, could
not repress a few pantomimic asides, that <VG035.JPG> were suggestive
of anything but full credence in his master's words. But Mr. Green
was delighted with Dr. Portman's affability, and perceiving that the
interview was at an end, made his ~conge~, and left the Master of
Brazenface to his Greek particles.
They had just got outside, when the servant said, "Oh, there is the
scout! ~Your~ scout, sir!" at which our hero blushed from the
consciousness of his new dignity; and, by way of appearing at his
ease, inquired the scout's name.
"Robert Filcher, sir," replied the servant; "but the gentlemen always
call 'em by their Christian names." And beckoning the scout to him,
he bade him shew the gentlemen
[36 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
to the rooms kept for Mr. Verdant Green; and then took himself back
to the Master.
Mr. Robert Filcher might perhaps have been forty years of age,
perhaps fifty; there was cunning enough in his face to fill even a
century of wily years; and there was a depth of expression in his
look, as he asked our hero if ~he~ was Mr. Verdant Green, that
proclaimed his custom of reading a freshman at a glance. Mr. Filcher
was laden with coats and boots that had just been brushed and blacked
for their respective masters; and he was bearing a jug of Buttery ale
(they are renowned for their ale at Brazenface) to the gentleman who
owned the pair of "tops" that were now flashing in the sun as they
dangled from the scout's hand.
"Please to follow me, gentlemen," he said; "it's only just across the
quad. Third floor, No. 4 staircase, fust quad; that's about the
mark, ~I~ think, sir."
Mr. Verdant Green glanced curiously round the Quadrangle, with its
picturesque irregularity of outline, its towers and turrets and
battlements, its grey time-eaten walls, its rows of mullioned
heavy-headed windows, and the quiet cloistered air that spoke of
study and reflection; and perceiving on one side a row of large
windows, with great buttresses between, and a species of steeple on
the high-pitched roof, he made bold (just to try the effect) to
address Mr. Filcher by the name assigned to him at an early period of
his life by his godfathers and godmothers, and inquired if that
building was the chapel.
"No, sir," replied Robert, "that there's the 'All, sir, ~that~ is, -
where you dines, sir, leastways when you ain't 'AEger,' or elseweer.
That at the top is the lantern, sir, ~that~ is; called so because it
never has no candle in it. The chapel's the hopposite side, sir.
-Please not to walk on the grass, sir; there's a fine agen it, unless
you're a Master. This way if ~you~ please, gentlemen!" Thus the
scout beguiled them, as he led them to an open doorway with a large 4
painted over it; inside was a door on either hand, while a coal-bin
displayed its black face from under a staircase that rose immediately
before them. Up this they went, following the scout (who had
vanished for a moment with the boots and beer), and when they had
passed the first floor they found the ascent by no means easy to the
body, or pleasant to the sight. The once white-washed walls were
coated with the uncleansed dust of the three past terms; and where
the plaster had not been chipped off by flying porter-bottles, or the
heels of Wellington boots, its surface had afforded an irresistible
temptation to those imaginative undergraduates who displayed their
artistic genius in candle-smoke cartoons of the heads of the
University, and other popular and unpopular characters. All Mr.
Green's caution, as he crept up the
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 37]
dark, twisting staircase, could not prevent him from crushing his hat
against the low, cobwebbed ceiling, and he gave vent to a very strong
but quiet anathema, which glided quietly and audibly into the remark,
"Confounded awkward staircase, I think!"
"Just what Mr. Bouncer says," replied the scout, "although he don't
reach so high as you, sir; but he ~do~ say, sir, when he, comes home
pleasant at night from some wine-party, that it ~is~ the aukardest
staircase as was ever put before a gentleman's <VG037.JPG> legs. And
he ~did~ go so far, sir, as to ask the Master, if it wouldn't be
better to have a staircase as would go up of hisself, and take the
gentlemen up with it, like one as they has at some public show in
London - the Call-and-see-em, I think he said."
"The Colosseum, probably," suggested Mr. Green. "And what did Dr.
Portman say to that, pray?"
"Why he said, sir, - leastways so Mr. Bouncer reported, - that it
worn't by no means a bad idea, and that p'raps Mr. Bouncer'd find
it done in six months' time, when he come back again from the
country. For you see, sir, Mr. Bouncer had made hisself so pleasant,
that he'd been and got the porter out o' bed, and corked his face
dreadful; and then, sir, he'd been and got a Hinn-board from
somewhere out of the town, and hung it on the Master's private door;
so that when they went to early chapel in the morning, they read as
how the Master was 'licensed to sell beer by retail,' and 'to be drunk
[38 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
on the premises'. So when the Master came to know who it was as did
it, which in course the porter told him, he said as how Mr. Bouncer
had better go down into the country for a year, for change of hair,
and to visit his friends."
"Very kind, indeed, of Dr. Portman," said our hero, who missed the
moral of the story, and took the rustication for a kind forgiveness
of injuries.
"Just what Mr. Bouncer said, sir," replied the scout, "he said it
~were~ pertickler kind and thoughtful. This is his room, sir, he
come up on'y yesterday." And he pointed to a door, above which was
painted in white letters on a black ground, "BOUNCER."
"Why," said Mr. Green to his son, "now I think of it, Bouncer was the
name of that short young gentleman who came with us on the coach
yesterday, and made himself so - so unpleasant with a tin horn."
"That's the gent, sir," observed the scout; "that's Mr. Bouncer,
agoing the complete unicorn, as he calls it. I dare say you'll find
him a pleasant neighbour, sir. Your rooms is next to his."
With some doubts of these prospective pleasures, the Mr. Greens,
~pere et fils~, entered through a double door painted over the
outside, with the name of "SMALLS"; to which Mr. Filcher directed our
hero's attention by saying, "You can have that name took out, sir,
and your own name painted in. Mr. Smalls has just moved hisself to
the other quad, and that's why the rooms is vacant, sir."
Mr. Filcher then went on to point out the properties and capabilities
of the rooms, and also their mechanical contrivances.
"This is the hoak, this 'ere outer door is, sir, which the gentlemen
sports, that is to say, shuts, sir, when they're a readin'. Not as
Mr. Smalls ever hinterfered with his constitootion by too much 'ard
study, sir; he only sported his hoak when people used to get
troublesome about their little bills. Here's a place for coals, sir,
though Mr. Smalls, he kept his bull-terrier there, which was agin the
regulations, as ~you~ know, sir." (Verdant nodded his head, as though
he were perfectly aware of the fact.) "This ere's your bed-room, sir.
Very small, did you say, sir? Oh, no, sir; not by no means! ~We~
thinks that in college reether a biggish bed-room, sir. Mr. Smalls
thought so, sir, and he's in his second year, ~he~ is." (Mr. Filcher
thoroughly understood the science of "flooring" a freshman.)
"This is ~my~ room, sir, this is, for keepin' your cups and saucers,
and wine-glasses and tumblers, and them sort o' things, and washin'
'em up when you wants 'em. If you likes to keep
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 39]
your wine and sperrits here, sir - Mr. Smalls always did - you'll
find it a nice cool place, sir: or else here's this 'ere winder-seat;
you see, sir, it opens with a lid, 'andy for the purpose."
"If you act upon that suggestion, Verdant," remarked Mr. Green aside
to his son, "I trust that a lock will be added."
There was not a superfluity of furniture in the room; and Mr. Smalls
having conveyed away the luxurious part of it, that which was left
had more of the useful than the ornamental character; but as Mr.
Verdant Green was no Sybarite, this <VG039.JPG> point was but of
little consequence. The window looked with a sunny aspect down upon
the quad, and over the opposite buildings were seen the spires of
churches, the dome of the Radcliffe, and the gables, pinnacles, and
turrets of other colleges. This was pleasant enough: pleasanter than
the stale odours of the Virginian weed that rose from the faded green
window-curtains, and from the old Kidderminster carpet that had been
charred and burnt into holes with the fag-ends of cigars.
"Well, Verdant," said Mr. Green, when they had completed their
inspection, "the rooms are not so very bad, and I think you may be
able to make yourself comfortable in them. But I wish they were not
so high up. I don't see how you can escape if a fire was to break
out, and I am afraid collegians must be very careless on these
points. Indeed, your mother made me promise that I would speak to
Dr. Portman about it, and ask
[40 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
him to please to allow your tutor, or somebody, to see that your fire
was safely raked out at night; and I had intended to have done so,
but somehow it quite escaped me. How your mother and all at home
would like to see you in your own college room!" And the thoughts of
father and son flew back to the Manor Green and its occupants, who
were doubtless at the same time thinking of them.
Mr. Filcher then explained the system of thirds, by which the
furniture of the room was to be paid for; and, having accompanied his
future master and Mr. Green downstairs, <VG040.JPG> the latter
accomplishing the descent not without difficulty and contusions, and
having pointed out the way to Mr. Slowcoach's rooms, Mr. Robert
Filcher relieved his feelings by indulging in a ballet of action, or
~pas d'extase~; in which poetry of motion he declared his joy at the
last valuable addition to Brazenface, and his own perquisites.
Mr. Slowcoach was within, and would see Mr. Verdant Green. So that
young gentleman, trembling with agitation, and feeling as though he
would have given pounds for the staircase to have been as high as
that of Babel, followed the servant upstairs, and left his father, in
almost as great a state of nervousness, pacing the quad below. But
it was not the formidable affair, nor was Mr. Slowcoach the
formidable man, that Mr. Verdant Green had anticipated; and by the
time that he had turned a piece of ~Spectator~ into Latin, our hero
had somewhat recovered his usual equanimity of mind and serenity of
expression: and the construing of half a dozen lines of Livy and
Homer, and the answering of a few questions, was a mere form; for Mr.
Slowcoach's long practice enabled him to see in a very few minutes if
the freshman before him (however nervous he might be) had the usual
average of abilities, and was up to the business of lectures. So Mr.
Verdant Green was soon dismissed, and returned to his father radiant
and happy.
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 41]
CHAPTER V.
MR. VERDANT GREEN MATRICULATES, AND MAKES A SENSATION.
AS they went out at the gate, they inquired of the porter for Mr.
Charles Larkyns, but they found that he had not yet returned from the
friend's house where he had been during the vacation; whereupon Mr.
Green said that they <VG041.JPG> would go and look at the Oxford
lions, so that he might be able to answer any of the questions that
should be put to him on his return. They soon found a guide, one of
those wonderful people to which show-places give birth, and of whom
Oxford can boast a very goodly average; and under this gentleman's
guidance Mr. Verdant Green made his first acquaintance with the fair
outside of his Alma Mater.
The short, thick stick of the guide served to direct attention to the
various objects he enumerated in his rapid career: "This here's
Christ Church College," he said, as he trotted them down St Aldate's,
"built by Card'nal Hoolsy four underd feet long and the famous Tom
Tower as tolls wun underd and wun hevery night that being the number
of stoodents on the
[42 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
foundation;" and thus the guide went on, perfectly independent of the
artificial trammels of punctuation, and not particular whether his
hearers understood him or not: that was not ~his~ business. And as
it was that gentleman's boast that he "could do the alls, collidges,
and principal hedifices in a nour and a naff," it could not be
expected but that Mr. Green should take back to Warwickshire
otherwise than a slightly confused impression of Oxford.
When he unrolled that rich panorama before his "mind's eye," all its
component parts were strangely out of place. The rich spire of St.
Mary's claimed acquaintance with her <VG042.JPG> poorer sister at the
cathedral. The cupola of the Tom Tower got into close quarters with
the huge dome of the Radcliffe, that shrugged up its great round
shoulders at the intrusion of the cross-bred Graeco-Gothic tower of
All Saints. The theatre had walked up to St. Giles's to see how the
Taylor Buildings agreed with the University galleries; while the
Martyrs' Memorial had stepped down to Magdalen Bridge, in time to see
the college taking a walk in the Botanic Gardens. The Schools and
the Bodleian had set their back against the stately portico of the
Clarendon Press; while the antiquated Ashmolean had given place to
the more modern Townhall. The time-honoured, black-looking front of
University College had changed into the cold cleanliness of the
"classic" ~facade~ of Queen's. The two towers of All Souls', - whose
several stages seem to be pulled out of each other like the parts of
a telescope, - had, somehow, removed themselves from the rest of the
building, which had gone, nevertheless, on a tour to Broad Street;
behind which, as every one knows, are the Broad Walk and the Christ
Church meadows. Merton Chapel had got into ~New~ quarters; and
Wadham had gone to Worcester for change of
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 43]
air. Lincoln had migrated from near Exeter to Pembroke; and
Brasenose had its nose quite put out of joint by St. John's. In
short, if the maps of Oxford are to be trusted, there had been a
general ~pousset~ movement among its public buildings.
But if such a shrewd and practised observer as Sir Walter Scott,
after a week's hard and systematic sight-seeing, could only say of
Oxford, "The time has been much too short to convey to me separate
and distinct ideas of all the variety of wonders that I saw: my
memory only at present furnishes a grand but indistinct picture of
towers, and chapels, and oriels, and vaulted halls, and libraries,
and paintings;" - if Sir Walter Scott could say this after a week's
work, it is not to be wondered at that Mr. Green, after so brief and
rapid a survey of the city at the heels of an unintelligent guide,
should feel himself slightly confused when, on his return to the
Manor Green, he attempted to give a slight description of the
wonderful sights of Oxford.
There was ~one~ lion of Oxford, however, whose individuality of
expression was too striking either to be forgotten or confused with
the many other lions around. Although (as in Byron's ~Dream~)
"A mass of many images
Crowded like waves upon"
Mr. Green, yet clear and distinct through all there ran
"The stream-like windings of that glorious street,"*
to which one of the first critics of the age+ has given this high
testimony of praise: "The High Street of Oxford has not its equal in
the whole world."
Mr. Green could not, of course, leave Oxford until he had seen his
beloved son in that elegant cap and preposterous gown which
constitute the present academical dress of the Oxford undergraduate;
and to assume which, with a legal right to the same, matriculation is
first necessary. As that amusing and instructive book, the
University Statutes, says in its own delightful and unrivalled
canine Latin, "~Statutum est, quod nemo pro Studente, seu Scholari,
habeatur, nec ullis Universitatis privilegiis, aut beneficiis~" (the
cap and gown, of course, being among these), "~gaudeat, nisi qui in
aliquod Collegium vel Aulam admissus fuerit, et intra quindenam post
talem admissionem in matriculam Universitatis fuerit relatus.~" So
our hero put on the required white tie, and then went forth to
complete his proper costume.
There were so many persons purporting to be "Academical robe-makers,"
that Mr. Green was some little time in deciding who should be the
tradesman favoured with the order for
---
* Wordsworth, Miscellaneous Sonnets.
+ Dr. Waagen, Art and Artists in England.
-=-
[44 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
his son's adornment. At last he fixed upon a shop, the window of
which contained a more imposing display than its neighbours of gowns,
hoods, surplices, and robes of all shapes and colours, from the black
velvet-sleeved proctor's to the blushing gorgeousness of the scarlet
robe and crimson silk sleeves of the D.C.L.
"I wish you," said Mr. Green, advancing towards a smirking
individual, who was in his shirt-sleeves and slippers, but in all
other respects was attired with great magnificence, - "I wish you to
measure this gentleman for his academical robes, and also to allow
him the use of some to be matriculated in."
"Certainly, sir," said the robe-maker, who stood bowing and smirking
before them, - as Hood expressively says,
"Washing his hands with invisible soap,
In imperceptible water;"-
"certainly, sir, if you wish it: but it will scarcely be necessary,
sir; as our custom is so extensive, that we keep a large ready-made
stock constantly on hand."
"Oh, that will do just as well," said Mr. Green; "better, indeed.
Let us see some."
"What description of robe would be required?" said the smirking
gentleman, again making use of the invisible soap; "a scholar's?"
"A scholar's!" repeated Mr. Green, very much wondering at the
question, and imagining that all students must of necessity be also
scholars; "yes, a scholar's, of course."
A scholar's gown was accordingly produced: and its deep, wide
sleeves, and ample length and breadth, were soon displayed to some
advantage on Mr. Verdant Green's tall figure. Reflected in a large
mirror, its charms were seen in their full perfection; and when the
delighted Mr. Green exclaimed, "Why, Verdant, I never saw you look so
well as you do now!" our hero was inclined to think that his father's
words were the words of truth, and that a scholar's gown was indeed
becoming.
The ~tout ensemble~ was complete when the cap had been added to the
gown; more especially as Verdant put it on in such a manner that the
polite robe-maker was obliged to say, "The hother way, if you please,
sir. Immaterial perhaps, but generally preferred. In fact, the
shallow part is ~always~ the forehead, - at least, in Oxford, sir."
While Mr. Green was paying for the cap and gown (N.B. the money of
governors is never refused), the robe-maker smirked, and said,
"Hexcuse the question; but may I hask, sir, if this is the gentleman
that has just gained the Scotland Scholarship?"
"No," replied Mr. Green. "My son has just gained his matriculation,
and, I believe, very creditably; but nothing more, as we only came
here yesterday."
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 45]
"Then I think, sir," said the robe-maker, with redoubled smirks, - "I
think, sir, there is a leetle mistake here. The gentleman will be
hinfringing the University statues, if he wears a scholar's gown and
hasn't got a scholarship; and these robes'll be of no use to the
gentleman, yet awhile at least. It <VG045.JPG> will be an
undergraduate's gown that he requires, sir."
It was fortunate for our hero that the mistake was discovered so
soon, and could be rectified without any of those unpleasant
consequences of iconoclasm to which the robe-maker's infringement of
the "statues" seemed to point; but as that gentleman put the
scholar's gown on one side, and brought out a commoner's, he might
have been heard to mutter, "I don't know which is the freshest, - the
freshman or his guv'nor."
When Mr. Verdant Green once more looked in the glass, and saw hanging
straight from his shoulders a yard of blueish-black stuff, garnished
with a little lappet, and two streamers whose upper parts were
gathered into double plaits, he regretted that he was not indeed a
scholar, if it were only for the privilege of wearing so elegant a
gown. However, his father smiled approvingly, the robe-maker smirked
judiciously; so he came to the gratifying conclusion that the
commoner's gown was by no means ugly, and would be thought a great
deal of at the Manor Green when he took it home at the end of the
term.
Leaving his hat with the robe-maker, who, with many more smirks and
imaginary washings of the hands, hoped to be favoured with the
gentleman's patronage on future occasions, and begged further to
trouble him with a card of his establishment, - our hero proceeded
with his father along the High Street, and turned round by St.
Mary's, and so up Cat Street to the Schools, where they made their
way to the classic
[46 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"Pig-market,"* to await the arrival of the Vice-Chancellor. When he
came, our freshman and two other white-tied fellow-freshmen were
summoned to the great man's presence; and there, in the ante-chamber
of the Convocation House,+ the edifying and imposing spectacle of
Matriculation was enacted. In the first place, Mr. Verdant Green
took divers oaths, and sincerely promised and swore that he would be
faithful and bear true allegiance to her Majesty Queen Victoria. He
also professed (very much to his own astonishment) that he did "from
his heart abhor, detest, and abjure, as impious and heretical, that
damnable doctrine and position, that princes excommunicated or
deprived by the pope, or any authority of the see of Rome, may be
deposed or murdered by their subjects, or any other whatsoever." And,
having almost lost his breath at this novel "position," Mr. Verdant
Green could only gasp his declaration, "that no foreign prince,
person, prelate, state, or potentate, hath, or ought to have, any
jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre-eminence, or authority,
ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm." When he had
sufficiently recovered his presence of mind, Mr. Verdant Green
inserted his name in the University books as "Generosi filius natu
maximus"; and then signed his name to the Thirty-nine Articles, -
though he did not endanger his matriculation, as Theodore Hook did,
by professing his readiness to sign forty if they wished it! Then the
Vice-Chancellor concluded the performance by presenting to the three
freshmen (in the most liberal manner) three brown-looking volumes,
with these words: "Scitote vos in Matriculam Universitatis hodie
relatos esse, sub hac conditione, nempe ut omnia Statuta hoc libro
comprehensa pro virili observetis." And the ceremony was at an end,
and Mr. Verdant Green was a matriculated member of the University of
Oxford. He was far too nervous, - from the weakening effect of the
popes, and the excommunicate princes, and their murderous subjects, -
to be able to translate and understand what the Vice-Chancellor had
said to him, but he
---
* The reason why such a name has been given to the Schools'
quadrangle may be found in the following extract from ~Ingram's
Memorials:~ "The schools built by Abbot Hokenorton being inadequate
to the increasing wants of the University, they applied to the Abbot
of Reading for stone to rebuild them; and in the year 1532 it appears
that considerable sums of money were expended on them; but they went
to decay in the latter part of the reign of Henry VIII, and during
the whole reign of Edward VI. The change of religion having
occasioned a suspension of the usual exercises and scholastic acts in
the University, in the year 1540 only two of these schools were used
by determiners, and within two years after none at all. The whole
area between these schools and the divinity school was subsequently
converted into a garden and ~pig-market~; and the schools themselves,
being completely abandoned by the masters and scholars, were used by
glovers and laundresses."
+ "In apodyterio domui congregationis."
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 47]
thought his present to be particularly kind; and he found it a copy
of the University Statutes, which he determined forthwith to read and
obey.
Though if he had known that he had sworn to observe statutes which
required him, among other things, to wear garments only of a black or
"subfusk" hue; to abstain from that absurd and proud custom of
walking in public ~in boots~, and the ridiculous one of wearing the
hair long;* - statutes, moreover, which demanded of him to refrain
from all taverns, wine-shops, and houses in which they sold wine or
any other <VG047.JPG> drink, and the herb called nicotiana or
"tobacco"; not to hunt wild beasts with dogs or snares or nets; not
to carry cross-bows or other "bombarding" weapons, or keep hawks for
fowling; not to frequent theatres or the strifes of gladiators; and
only to carry a bow and arrows for the sake of honest recreation;+ -
if Mr. Verdant Green had known that he had covenanted to do this, he
would, perhaps, have felt some scruples in taking the oaths of
matriculation. But this by the way.
Now that Mr. Green had seen all that he wished to see, nothing
remained for him but to discharge his hotel bill. It was accordingly
called for, and produced by the waiter, whose face - by a visitation
of that complaint against which vaccination is usually considered a
safeguard - had been reduced to a
---
* See the Oxford Statutes, tit. xiv, "De vestitu et habitu
scholastico."
+ Ditto, tit. xv, "De moribus conformandis."
-=-
[48 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
state resembling the interior half of a sliced muffin. To judge from
the expression of Mr. Green's features as he regarded the document
that had been put into his hand, it is probable that he had not been
much accustomed to Oxford hotels; for he ran over the several items
of the bill with a look in which surprise contended with indignation
for the mastery, while the muffin-faced waiter handled his plated
salver, and looked fixedly at nothing.
Mr. Green, however, refraining from observations, paid the bill; and,
muffling himself in greatcoat and travelling-cap, he prepared himself
to take a comfortable journey back to Warwickshire, inside the
Birmingham and Oxford coach. It was not loaded in the same way that
it had been when he came up by it, and his fellow-passengers were of
a very different description; and it must be confessed that, in the
absence of Mr. Bouncer's tin horn, the attacks of intrusive terriers,
and the involuntary fumigation of himself with tobacco (although its
presence was still perceptible within the coach), Mr. Green found his
journey ~from~ Oxford much more agreeable than it had been ~to~ that
place. He took an affectionate farewell of his son, somewhat after
the manner of the "heavy fathers" of the stage; and then the coach
bore him away from the last lingering look of our hero, who felt any
thing but heroic <VG048.JPG> at being left for the first time in his
life to shift for himself. His luggage had been sent up to
Brazenface, so thither he turned his steps, and with some little
difficulty found his room. Mr. Filcher had partly unpacked his
master's things, and had left everything uncomfortable and in "the
most admired disorder"; and Mr. Verdant Green sat himself down upon
the "practicable" window-seat, and resigned himself to his thoughts.
If they had not already flown to the Manor Green, they would soon
have been carried there; for a German band, just outside the
college-gates, began to play "Home, sweet home," with that truth and
delicacy of expression which the wandering minstrels of Germany seem
to acquire intuitively. The sweet melancholy
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 49]
of the simple air, as it came subdued by distance into softer tones,
would have powerfully affected most people who had just been torn
from the bosom of their homes, to fight, all inexperienced, the
battle of life; but it had such an effect on Mr. Verdant Green, that
- but it little matters saying ~what~ he did; many people will give
way to feelings in private that they would stifle in company; and if
Mr. Filcher on his return found his master wiping his spectacles, why
that was only a simple proceeding which all glasses frequently
require.
To divert his thoughts, and to impress upon himself and others the
fact that he was an Oxford MAN, our freshman set out for a stroll;
and as the unaccustomed feeling of the gown <VG049.JPG> about his
shoulders made him feel somewhat embarrassed as to the carriage of
his arms, he stepped into a shop on the way and purchased a light
cane, which he considered would greatly add to the effect of the cap
and gown. Armed with this weapon, he proceeded to disport himself in
the Christ Church meadows, and promenaded up and down the Broad Walk.
The beautiful meadows lay green and bright in the sun; the arching
trees threw a softened light, and made a chequered pavement of the
great Broad Walk; "witch-elms ~did~ counter-change the floor" of the
gravel-walks that wound with the windings of the Cherwell; the
drooping willows were mirrored in its stream; through openings in the
trees there were glimpses of grey, old college-buildings; then came
the walk along the banks, the Isis shining like molten silver, and
fringed around with barges and boats; then another stretch of green
meadows; then a cloud of steam from the railway-station; and a
background of gently-rising hills. It was a cheerful scene, and the
variety of figures gave life and animation to the whole.
Young ladies and unprotected females were found in abundance, dressed
in all the engaging variety of light spring dresses; and, as may be
supposed, our hero attracted a great deal of their attention, and
afforded them no small amusement. But the unusual and terrific
appearance of a spectacled
[50 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
<VG050-1.JPG> gownsman with a cane produced the greatest alarm among
the juveniles, who imagined our freshman to be a new description
<VG050-2.JPG>
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 51]
of beadle or Bogy, summoned up by the exigencies of the times to
preserve a rigorous discipline among the young people; and, regarding
his cane as the symbol of his stern sway, they harassed their
nursemaids by unceasingly charging at their petticoats for protection.
Altogether, Mr. Verdant Green made quite a sensation.
CHAPTER VI.
MR. VERDANT GREEN DINES, BREAKFASTS, AND GOES TO CHAPEL.
OUR hero dressed himself with great care, that he might make his
first appearance in Hall with proper ~eclat~ - and, having made his
way towards the lantern-surmounted building, he walked up the steps
and under the groined archway with a crowd of hungry undergraduates
who were hurrying in to dinner. The clatter of plates would have
alone been sufficient to guide his steps; and, passing through one
of the doors in the elaborately carved screen that shut off the
passage and the buttery, he found himself within the hall of
Brazenface. It was of noble size, lighted by lofty windows, and
carried up to a great height by an open roof, dark (save where it
opened to the lantern) with great oak beams, and rich with carved
pendants and gilded bosses. The ample fire-places displayed the
capaciousness of those collegiate mouths of "the wind-pipes of
hospitality," and gave an idea of the dimensions of the kitchen
ranges. In the centre of the hall was a huge plate-warmer,
elaborately worked in brass with the college arms. Founders and
benefactors were seen, or suggested, on all sides; their arms gleamed
from the windows in all the glories of stained glass; and their faces
peered out from the massive gilt frames on the walls, as though their
shadows loved to linger about the spot that had been benefited by
their substance. At the further end of the hall a deep bay-window
threw its painted light upon a dais, along which stretched the table
for the Dons; Masters and Bachelors occupied side-tables; and the
other tables were filled up by the undergraduates; every one, from
the Don downwards, being in his gown.
Our hero was considerably impressed with the (to him) singular
character of the scene; and from the "Benedictus benedicat"
grace-before-meat to the "Benedicto benedicamur" after-meat, he gazed
curiously around him in silent wonderment. So much indeed was he
wrapped up in the novelty of the scene, that he ran a great risk of
losing his dinner. The scouts fled about in all directions with
plates, and glasses, and pewter dishes, and massive silver mugs that
had gone round the tables
[52 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
for the last two centuries, and still no one waited upon Mr. Verdant
Green. He twice ventured to timidly say, "Waiter!" but as no one
answered to his call, and as he was too bashful and occupied with his
own thoughts to make another attempt, it is probable that he would
have risen from dinner as unsatisfied as when he sat down, had not
his right-hand companion (having partly relieved his own wants)
perceived his neighbour to be a freshman, and kindly said to him, "I
think you'd better begin your dinner, because we don't stay here
long. <VG052.JPG>
What is your scout's name?" And when he had been told it, he turned
to Mr. Filcher and asked him, "What the doose he meant by not waiting
on his master?" which, with the addition of a few gratuitous threats,
had the effect of bringing that gentleman to his master's side, and
reducing Mr. Verdant Green to a state of mind in which gratitude to
his companion and a desire to beg his scout's pardon were confusedly
blended. Not seeing any dishes upon the table to select from, he
referred to the list, and fell back on the standard roast beef.
"I am sure I am very much obliged to you," said Verdant, turning to
his friendly neighbour. "My rooms are next to yours, and I had the
pleasure of being driven by you on the coach the other day."
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 53]
"Oh!" said Mr. Fosbrooke, for it was he; "ah, I remember you now! I
suppose the old bird was your governor. ~He~ seemed to think it
any thing but a pleasure, being driven by Four-in-hand Fosbrooke."
"Why, pap - my father - is rather nervous on a coach," replied
Verdant: "he was bringing me to college for the first time." "Then
you are the man that has just come into Smalls' old rooms? Oh, I
see. Don't you ever drink with your dinner? If you don't holler for
your rascal, he'll never half wait upon you. Always bully them well
at first, and then they learn manners."
So, by way of commencing the bullying system without loss of time,
our hero called out very fiercely "Robert!" and then, as Mr. Filcher
glided to his side, he timidly dropped his tone into a mild "Glass of
water, if you please, Robert."
He felt rather relieved when dinner was over, and retired at once to
his own rooms; where, making a rather quiet and sudden entrance, he
found them tenanted by an old woman, who wore a huge bonnet tilted on
the top of her head, and was busily and dubiously engaged at one of
his open boxes. "Ahem!" he coughed, at which note of warning the old
lady jumped round very quickly, and said, - dabbing curtseys where
there were stops, like the beats of a conductor's ~baton~, - "Law
bless me, sir. It's beggin' your parding that I am. Not seein' you
a comin' in. Bein' 'ard of hearin' from a hinfant. And havin' my
back turned. I was just a puttin' your things to rights, sir. If
you please, sir, I'm Mrs. Tester. Your bed-maker, sir."
"Oh, thank you," said our freshman, with the shadow of a suspicion that
Mrs. Tester was doing something more than merely "putting to rights"
the pots of jam and marmalade, and the packages of tea and coffee,
which his doting mother had thoughtfully placed in his box as a
provision against immediate distress. "Thank you."
"I've done my rooms, sir," dabbed Mrs. Tester. "Which if thought
agreeable, I'd stay and put these things in their places. Which it
certainly is Robert's place. But I never minds putting myself out.
As I always perpetually am minded. So long as I can obleege the
gentlemen."
So, as our hero was of a yielding disposition, and could, under
skilful hands, easily be moulded into any form, he allowed Mrs.
Tester to remain, and conclude the unpacking and putting away of his
goods, in which operations she displayed great generalship.
"You've a deal of tea and coffee, sir," she said, keeping time by
curtseys. "Which it's a great blessin' to have a mother. And not to
be left dissolute like some gentlemen. And tea
[54 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
and coffee is what I mostly lives on. And mortial dear it is to poor
folks. And a package the likes of this, sir, were a blessin' I should
never even dream on."
"Well, then," said Verdant, in a most benevolent mood, "you can take
one of the packages for your trouble."
Upon this, Mrs. Tester appeared to be greatly overcome. "Which I
once had a son myself," she said. "And as fine a young man as you
are, sir. With a strawberry mark in the small of his back. And
beautiful red whiskers, sir; with a tendency to drink. Which it were
his rewing, and took him to be enlisted for a sojer. When he went
across the seas to the West Injies. And was took with the yaller
fever, and buried there. Which the remembrance, sir, brings on my
spazzums. To which I'm an hafflicted martyr, sir. And can only be
heased with three spots of brandy on a lump of sugar. Which your
good mother, sir, has put a bottle of brandy. Along with the jam and
the clean linen, sir. As though a purpose for my complaint. Ugh!
oh!"
And Mrs. Tester forthwith began pressing and thumping her sides in
such a terrific manner, and appeared to be undergoing such internal
agony, that Mr. Verdant Green not only gave her brandy there and
then, for her immediate relief - "which it heases the spazzums
deerectly, bless you," observed Mrs. Tester, parenthetically; but
also told her where she could find the bottle, in case she should
again be attacked when in his rooms; attacks which, it is needless to
say, were repeated at every subsequent visit. Mrs. Tester then
finished putting away the tea and coffee, and entered into further
particulars about her late son; though what connection there was
between him and the packages of tea, our hero could not perceive.
Nevertheless he was much interested with her narrative, and thought
Mrs. Tester a very affectionate, motherly sort of woman; more
especially, when (Robert having placed his tea-things on the table)
she showed him how to make the tea; an apparently simple feat that
the freshman found himself perfectly unable to accomplish. And then
Mrs. Tester made a final dab, and her exit, and our hero sat over his
tea as long as he could, because it gave an idea of cheerfulness; and
then, after directing Robert to be sure not to forget to call him in
time for morning chapel, he retired to bed.
The bed was very hard, and so small, that, had it not been for the
wall, our hero's legs would have been visible (literally) at the
foot; but despite these novelties, he sank into a sound rest, which
at length passed into the following dream. He thought that he was
back again at dinner at the Manor Green, but that the room was
curiously like the hall of Brazenface, and that Mrs. Tester and Dr.
Portman were on either side of
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 55]
him, with Mr. Fosbrooke and Robert talking to his sisters; and that
he was reaching his hand to help Mrs. Tester to a packet of tea,
which her son had sent them from the West Indies, when he threw over
a wax-light, and set every thing on fire; and that the parish engine
came up; and that there was a great noise, and a loud hammering; and,
"Eh? yes! oh! the half-hour is it? Oh, yes! thank you!" And Mr.
Verdant Green sprang out of bed much relieved in mind to find
<VG055.JPG> that the alarm of fire was nothing more than his scout
knocking vigorously at his door, and that it was chapel-time.
"Want any warm water, sir?" asked Mr. Filcher, putting his head in at
the door.
"No, thank you," replied our hero; "I - I -"
"Shave with cold. Ah! I see, sir. It's much 'ealthier, and makes the
'air grow. But any thing as you ~does~ want, sir, you've only to
call."
"If there is any thing that I want, Robert," said Verdant, "I will
ring."
"Bless you, sir," observed Mr. Filcher, "there ain't no bells never
in colleges! They'd be rung off their wires in no time. Mr. Bouncer,
sir, he uses a trumpet like they does on board ship. By the same
token, that's it, sir!" And Mr. Filcher vanished, just in time to
prevent little Mr. Bouncer from finishing a furious solo, from an
entirely new version of ~Robert le Diable~, which he was giving with
novel effects through the medium of a speaking-trumpet.
Verdant found his bed-room inconveniently small; so
[56 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
contracted, indeed, in its dimensions, that his toilette was not
completed without his elbows having first suffered severe abrasions.
His mechanical turnip showed him that he had no time to lose, and the
furious ringing of a bell, whose noise was echoed by the bells of
other colleges, made him dress with a rapidity quite unusual, and
hurry down stairs and across quad. to the chapel steps, up which a
throng of students were hastening. Nearly all betrayed symptoms of
having been aroused from their sleep without having had any spare
time <VG056.JPG> for an elaborate toilette, and many, indeed, were
completing it, by thrusting themselves into surplices and gowns as
they hurried up the steps.
Mr. Fosbrooke was one of these; and when he saw Verdant close to him,
he benevolently recognized him, and said, "Let me put you up to a
wrinkle. When they ring you up sharp for chapel, don't you lose any
time about your absolutions, - washing, you know; but just jump into a
pair of bags and Wellingtons; clap a top-coat on you, and button it
up to the chin, and there you are, ready dressed in the twinkling of
a bed-post."
Before Mr. Verdant Green could at all comprehend why a person should
jump into two bags, instead of dressing himself in the normal manner,
they went through the ante-chapel, or "Court of the Gentiles," as Mr.
Fosbrooke termed it, and entered the choir of the chapel through a
screen elaborately decorated in the Jacobean style, with pillars and
arches, and festoons of fruit and flowers, and bells and
pomegranates. On either side of the door were two men, who quickly
glanced
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 57]
at each one who passed, and as quickly pricked a mark against his
name on the chapel lists. As the freshman went by, they made a
careful study of his person, and took mental daguerreotypes of his
features. Seeing no beadle, or pew-opener (or, for the matter of
that, any pews), or any one to direct him to a place, Mr. Verdant
Green quietly took a seat in the first place that he found empty,
which happened to be the stall on the <VG057.JPG> right hand of the
door. Unconscious of the trespass he was committing, he at once put
his cap to his face and knelt down; but he had no sooner risen from
his knees, than he found an imposing-looking Don, as large as life
and quite as natural, who was staring at him with the greatest
astonishment, and motioning him to immediately "come out of that!"
This our hero did with the greatest speed and confusion, and sank
breathless on the end of the nearest bench; when, just as in his
agitation, he had again said his prayer, the service fortunately
commenced, and somewhat relieved him of his embarrassment.
Although he had the glories of Magdalen, Merton, and New
[58 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
College chapels fresh in his mind, yet Verdant was considerably
impressed with the solemn beauties of his own college chapel. He
admired its harmonious proportions, and the elaborate carving of its
decorated tracery. He noted every thing: the great eagle that seemed
to be spreading its wings for an upward flight, - the pavement of
black and white marble, - the dark canopied stalls, rich with the
later work of Grinling Gibbons, - the elegant tracery of the windows;
and he lost himself in <VG058.JPG> a solemn reverie as he looked up
at the saintly forms through which the rays of the morning sun
streamed in rainbow tints.
But the lesson had just begun; and the man on Verdant's right
appeared to be attentively following it. Our freshman, however,
could not help seeing the book, and, much to his astonishment, he
found it to be a Livy, out of which his neighbour was getting up his
morning's lecture. He was still more astonished, when the lesson had
come to an end, by being suddenly pulled back when he attempted to
rise, and finding the streamers of his gown had been put to a use
never intended for them, by being tied round the finial of the stall
behind him, - the silly work of a boyish gentleman, who, in his desire
to play off a practical joke on a freshman, forgot the sacredness of
the place where college rules compelled him to shew himself on
morning parade.
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 59]
Chapel over, our hero hurried back to his rooms, and there, to his
great joy, found a budget of letters from home; and surely the little
items of intelligence that made up the news of the Manor Green had
never seemed to possess such interest as now! The reading and
re-reading of these occupied him during the whole of breakfast-time;
and Mr. Filcher found him still engaged in perusing them when he came
to clear away the things. Then it was that Verdant discovered the
extended meaning that the word "perquisites" possesses in the eyes of
<VG059.JPG> a scout, for, to a remark that he had made, Robert
replied in a tone of surprise, "Put away these bits o' things as is
left, sir!" and then added, with an air of mild correction, "you see,
sir, you's fresh to the place, and don't know that gentlemen never
likes that sort o' thing done ~here~, sir; but you gets your commons,
sir, fresh and fresh every morning and evening, which must be much
more agreeable to the 'ealth than a heating of stale bread and such
like. No, sir!" continued Mr. Filcher, with a manner that was truly
parental, "no sir! you trust to me, sir, and I'll take care of your
things, I will." And from the way that he carried off the eatables,
it seemed probable that he would make good his words. But our
freshman felt considerable awe of his scout, and murmuring broken
accents, that sounded like "ignorance - customs - University," he
[60 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
endeavoured, by a liberal use of his pocket-handkerchief, to appear
as if he were not blushing.
As Mr. Slowcoach had told him that he would not have to begin
lectures until the following day, and as the Greek play fixed for the
lecture was one with which he had been made well acquainted by Mr.
Larkyns, Verdant began to consider what he could do with himself,
when the thought of Mr. Larkyns suggested the idea that his son
Charles had probably by this time returned to college. He
determined therefore <VG060.JPG> at once to go in search of him;
and looking out a letter which the rector had commissioned him to
deliver to his son, he inquired of Robert, if he was aware whether Mr.
Charles Larkyns had come back from his holidays.
"'Ollidays, sir?," said Mr. Filcher. "Oh! I see, sir! Vacation, you
mean, sir. Young gentlemen as is ~men~, sir, likes to call their
'ollidays by a different name to boys', sir. Yes, sir, Mr. Charles
Larkyns, he come up last arternoon, sir; but he and Mr. Smalls, the
gent as he's been down with this vacation, the same as had these
rooms, sir, they didn't come to 'All, sir, but went and had their
dinners comfortable at the Star, sir; and very pleasant they made
theirselves; and Thomas, their scout, sir, has had quite a horder for
sober-water this morning, sir."
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 61]
With somewhat of a feeling of wonder how one scout contrived to know
so much of the proceedings of gentlemen who were waited on by another
scout, and wholly ignorant of his allusion to his fellow-servant's
dealings in soda-water, Mr. Verdant Green inquired where he could
find Mr. Larkyns, and as the rooms were but just on the other side of
the quad., he put on his hat, and made his way to them. The scout
was just going into the room, so our hero gave a tap at the door and
followed him.
CHAPTER VII.
MR. VERDANT GREEN CALLS ON A GENTLEMAN WHO "IS LICENSED
TO SELL."
MR. VERDANT GREEN found himself in a room that had a pleasant
look-out over the gardens of Brazenface, from which a noble chestnut
tree brought its pyramids of bloom close up to the very windows. The
walls of the room were decorated with engravings in gilt frames,
their variety of subject denoting the catholic taste of their
proprietor. "The start for the Derby," and other coloured hunting
prints, shewed his taste for the field and horseflesh; Landseer's
"Distinguished Member of the Humane Society," "Dignity and
Impudence," and others, displayed his fondness for dog-flesh; while
Byron beauties, "Amy Robsart," and some extremely ~au naturel~ pets
of the ballet, proclaimed his passion for the fair sex in general.
Over the fire-place was a mirror (for Mr. Charles Larkyns was not
averse to the reflection of his good-looking features, and was rather
glad than otherwise of "an excuse for the glass,") its frame stuck
full of tradesmen's cards and (unpaid) bills, invites, "bits of
pasteboard" pencilled with a mystic "wine," and other odds and ends:
- no private letters though! Mr. Larkyns was too wary to leave his
"family secrets" for the delectation of his scout. Over the mirror
was displayed a fox's mask, gazing vacantly from between two brushes;
leaving the spectator to imagine that Mr. Charles Larkyns was a
second Nimrod, and had in some way or other been intimately concerned
in the capture of these trophies of the chase. This supposition of
the imaginative spectator would be strengthened by the appearance of
a list of hunting appointments (of the past season) pinned up over a
list of lectures, and not quite in character with the tabular views
of prophecies, kings of Israel and Judah, and the Thirty-nine
Articles, which did duty elsewhere on the walls, where they were
presumed to be studied in spare minutes - which were remarkably
spare indeed.
[62 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
The sporting character of the proprietor of the rooms was further
suggested by the huge pair of antlers over the door, bearing on their
tines a collection of sticks, whips, and spurs; while, to prove that
Mr. Larkyns was not wholly taken up by the charms of the chase,
fishing-rods, tandem-whips, cricket-bats, and Joe Mantons, were piled
up in odd corners; and single-sticks, boxing-gloves, and foils,
gracefully arranged upon the walls, shewed that he occasionally
devoted himself to athletic pursuits. An ingenious wire-rack for
pipes and meerschaums, and the presence of one or two
suspicious-looking boxes, labelled "collorados," "regalia,"
"lukotilla," and with other unknown words, seemed to intimate, that
if Mr. Larkyns was no smoker himself, he at least kept a bountiful
supply of "smoke" for his friends; but the perfumed cloud that was
proceeding from his lips as Verdant entered the room, dispelled all
doubts on the subject.
He was much changed in appearance during the somewhat long interval
since Verdant had last seen him, and his handsome features had
assumed a more manly, though perhaps a more rakish look. He was
lolling on a couch in the ~neglige~ attire of dressing-gown and
slippers, with his pink striped shirt comfortably open at the neck.
Lounging in an easy chair opposite to him was a gentleman clad in
tartan-plaid, whose face might only be partially discerned through
the glass bottom of a pewter, out of which he was draining the last
draught. Between them was a table covered with the ordinary
appointments for a breakfast, and the extra-ordinary ones of beer-cup
and soda-water. Two Skye terriers, hearing a strange footstep,
immediately barked out a challenge of "Who goes there?" and made Mr.
Larkyns aware that an intruder was at hand.
Slightly turning his head, he dimly saw through the smoke a
spectacled figure taking off his hat, and holding out an envelope,
and without looking further, he said, "It's no use coming here, young
man, and stealing a march in this way! I don't owe ~you~ any thing;
and if I did, it is not convenient to pay it. I told Spavin not to
send me any more of his confounded reminders; so go back and tell him
that he'll find it all right in the long-run, and that I'm really
going to read this term, and shall stump the examiners at last. And
now, my friend, you'd better make yourself scarce and vanish! You
know where the door lies!"
Our hero was so confounded at this unusual manner of receiving a
friend, that he was some little time before he could gasp out, "Why,
Charles Larkyns - don't you remember me? Verdant Green!"
Mr. Larkyns, astonished in his turn, jumped up directly, and came to
him with outstretched hands. "'Pon my word,
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 63]
old fellow," he said, "I really beg you ten thousand pardons for not
recognizing you; but you are so altered - allow me to add, improved, -
since I last saw you; you were not a bashaw of two tails, then, you
know; and, really, wearing your beaver up, like Hamlet's uncle, I
altogether took you for a dun. For I am a victim of a very
remarkable monomania. There are in this place wretched beings
calling themselves tradesmen, who labour under the impression that I
owe them what they facetiously term little bills; and though I have
frequently assured <VG063.JPG> their messengers, who are kind enough
to come here to inquire for Mr. Larkyns, that that unfortunate
gentleman has been obliged to hide himself from persecution in a
convent abroad, yet the wretches still hammer at my oak, and disturb
my peace of mind. But bring yourself to an anchor, old fellow! This
man is Smalls; a capital fellow, whose chief merit consists in his
devotion to literature; indeed, he reads so hard that he is called a
~fast~ man. Smalls! let me introduce my friend Verdant Green, a
freshman, - ahem! - and the proprietor, I believe, of your old rooms."
Our hero made a profound bow to Mr. Smalls, who returned it with
great gravity, and said he "had great pleasure in forming the
acquaintance of a freshman like Mr. Verdant Green;" which was
doubtless quite true; and he then evinced his devotion to literature
by continuing the perusal of one of those
[64 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
vivid and refined accounts of "a rattling set-to between Nobby Buffer
and Hammer Sykes," for which ~Tintinnabulum's Life~ is so justly
famous.
"I heard from my governor," said Mr. Larkyns, "that you were coming
up; and in the course of the morning I should have come and looked
you up; but the - the fatigues of travelling yesterday," continued
Mr. Larkyns, as a lively recollection of the preceding evening's
symposium stole over his mind, "made me rather later than usual this
morning. Have you done any thing in this way?"
Verdant replied that he had breakfasted, although he had not done
any thing in the way of cigars, because he never smoked.
"Never smoked! Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Smalls, violently
interrupting himself in the perusal of ~Tintinnabulum's Life~, while
some private signals were rapidly telegraphed between him and Mr.
Larkyns; "ah! you'll soon get the better of that weakness! Now, as
you're a freshman, you'll perhaps allow me to give you a little
advice. The Germans, you know, would never be the deep readers that
they are, unless they smoked; and I should advise you to go to the
Vice-Chancellor as soon as possible, and ask him for an order for
some weeds. He'd be delighted to think you are beginning to set to
work so soon!" To which our hero replied, that he was much obliged
to Mr. Smalls for his kind advice, and if such were the customs of
the place, he should do his best to fulfil them.
"Perhaps you'll be surprised at our simple repast, Verdant," said Mr.
Larkyns; "but it's our misfortune. It all comes of hard reading and
late hours: the midnight oil, you know, must be supplied, and ~will~
be paid for; the nervous system gets strained to excess, and you have
to call in the doctor. Well, what does he do? Why, he prescribes a
regular course of tonics; and I flatter myself that I am a very
docile patient, and take my bitter beer regularly, and without
complaining." In proof of which Mr. Charles Larkyns took a long pull
at the pewter.
"But you know, Larkyns," observed Mr. Smalls, "that was nothing to my
case, when I got laid up with elephantiasis on the biceps of the
lungs, and had a fur coat in my stomach!"
"Dear me!" said Verdant sympathizingly; "and was that also through
too much study?"
"Why, of course!" replied Mr. Smalls; "it couldn't have been anything
else - from the symptoms, you know! But then the sweets of learning
surpass the bitters. Talk of the pleasures of the dead languages,
indeed! why, how many jolly nights have you and I, Larkyns, passed
'down among the dead men!' "
Charles Larkyns had just been looking over the letter which
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 65]
Verdant had brought him, and said, "The governor writes that you'd
like me to put you up to the ways of the place, because they are
fresh to you, and you are fresh (ahem! very!) to them. Now, I am
going to wine with Smalls to-night, to meet a few nice, quiet,
hard-working men (eh, Smalls?), and I daresay Smalls will do the
civil, and ask you also."
"Certainly!" said Mr. Smalls, who saw a prospect of amusement,
"delighted, I assure you! I hope to see you - after <VG065.JPG> Hall,
you know, - but I hope you don't object to a very quiet party?"
"Oh, dear no!" replied Verdant; "I much prefer a quiet party; indeed,
I have always been used to quiet parties; and I shall be very glad to
come."
"Well, that's settled then," said Charles Larkyns; "and, in the
mean time, Verdant, let us take a prowl about the old place, and I'll
put you up to a thing or two, and shew you some of the freshman's
sights. But you must go and get your cap and gown, old fellow, and
then by that time I'll be ready for you."
Whether there are really any sights in Oxford that are more
especially devoted, or adapted, to its freshmen, we will not
[66 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
undertake to affirm; but if there are, they could not have had a
better expositor than Mr. Charles Larkyns, or a more credible visitor
than Mr. Verdant Green.
His credibility was rather strongly put to the test as they
<VG066-1.JPG> turned into the High Street, when his companion
directed his attention to an individual on the opposite side of the
street, with a voluminous gown, and enormous cocked hat profusely
adorned with gold lace. "I suppose you know who that is, Verdant?
No! Why, that's the Bishop of Oxford! Ah, I see, he's a very
different-looking man to what you had expected; but then these
university robes so change the appearance. That is his official
dress, as the Visitor of the Ashmolean!"
Mr. Verdant Green having "swallowed" this, his friend was thereby
enabled, not only to use up old "sells," but also to draw largely on
his invention for new ones. Just then, there came along the street,
walking in a sort of young procession, - the Vice-Chancellor, with his
Esquire and Yeoman-bedels. The silver maces, carried by these latter
gentlemen, made them by far the most showy part of the procession,
and accordingly Mr. Larkyns seized the favourable opportunity to
point out the foremost bedel, and say, "You see that man with the
poker and loose cap? Well, that's the Vice-Chancellor."
<VG066-2.JPG>
"But what does he walk in procession for?" inquired our freshman.
"Ah, poor man!" said Mr. Larkyns, "he's obliged to do it." 'Uneasy
lies the head that wears a crown,' you know; and he can never go
anywhere, or do anything, without carrying that poker, and having the
other minor pokers to follow him. They never leave him, not even at
night. Two of the pokers stand on each side his bed, and relieve
each other every two hours. So, I need hardly say, that he is obliged
to be a bachelor."
"It must be a very wearisome office," remarked our freshman, who
fully believed all that was told to him.
"Wearisome, indeed; and that's the reason why they are obliged to
change the Vice-Chancellors so often. It would
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 67]
kill most people, only they are always selected for their strength, -
and height," he added, as a brilliant idea just struck <VG067-1.JPG>
him. They had turned down Magpie Lane, and so by Oriel College,
where one of the fire-plug notices had caught Mr. Larkyns' eye. "You
see that," he said; "well, that's one of the plates they put up to
record the Vice's height. F.P. 7 feet, you see: the initials of his
name, - Frederick Plumptre!"
"He scarcely seemed so tall as that," said our hero, "though
certainly a tall man. But the gown makes a difference, I suppose."
"His height was a very lucky thing for him, however," continued Mr.
Larkyns; "I dare say when you have heard that it was only those who
stood high in the University that were elected to rule it, you little
thought of the true meaning of the term?"
"I certainly never did," said the freshman, innocently; "but I knew
that the customs of Oxford must of course be very different from
those of other places."
"Yes, you'll soon find that out," replied Mr. Larkyns, meaningly.
"But here we are at Merton, whose Merton ale is as celebrated as
Burton ale. You see the man giving in the letters <VG067-2.JPG> to
the porter? Well, he's one of their principal men. Each college
does its own postal department; and at Merton there are fourteen
postmasters,* for they get no end of letters there."
"Oh, yes!" said our hero, "I remember Mr. Larkyns, - your father, the
rector, I mean, - telling us that the son of one of his old friends
had been a postmaster of Merton; but I fancied that he had said it
had something to do with a scholarship."
---
* Exhibitioners of Merton College are called "postmasters."
-=-
[68 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"Ah, you see, it's a long while since the governor was here, and his
memory fails him," remarked Mr. Charles Larkyns, very unfilially.
"Let us turn down the Merton fields, and round into St. Aldate's. We
may perhaps be in time to see the Vice come down to Christ Church."
"What does he go there for?" asked Mr. Verdant Green.
"To wind up the great clock, and put big Tom in order. Tom is the
bell that you hear at nine each night; the Vice has to see that he is
in proper condition, and, as you have seen, goes out with his pokers
for that purpose."
On their way, Charles Larkyns pointed out, close to Folly Bridge, a
house profusely decorated with figures and indescribable ornaments,
which he informed our freshman was Blackfriars' Hall, where all the
men who had been once plucked <VG068.JPG> were obliged to migrate to;
and that Folly Bridge received its name from its propinquity to the
Hall. They were too late to see the Vice-Chancellor wind up the
clock of Christ Church; but as they passed by the college, they met
two gownsmen who recognized Mr. Larkyns by a slight nod. "Those are
two Christ Church men," he said, "and noblemen. The one with the
Skye-terrier's coat and eye-glass is the Earl of Whitechapel, the
Duke of Minories' son. I dare say you know the other man. No! Why,
he is Lord Thomas Peeper, eldest son of the Lord Godiva who hunts our
county. I knew him in the field."
"But why do they wear ~gold~ tassels to their caps?" inquired the
freshman.
"Ah," said the ingenious Mr. Larkyns, shaking his head; "I had rather
you'd not have asked me that question, because that's the disgraceful
part of the business. But these lords, you see, they ~will~ live at
a faster pace than us commoners, who can't stand a champagne
breakfast above once a term or so. Why, those gold tassels are the
badges of drunkenness!"*
"Of drunkenness! dear me!"
"Yes, it's very sad, isn't it?" pursued Mr. Larkyns; "and I wonder
that Peeper in particular should give way to such
---
* As "Tufts" and "Tuft-hunters" have become "household words," it is
perhaps needless to tell any one that the gold tassel is the
distinguishing mark of a nobleman.
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 69]
things. But you see how they brazen it out, and walk about as coolly
as though nothing had happened. It's just the same sort of
punishment," continued Mr. Larkyns, whose inventive powers increased
with the demand that the freshman's gullibility imposed upon them, -
"it is just the same sort of thing that they do with the Greenwich
pensioners. When ~they~ have been trangressing the laws of sobriety,
you know, they are made marked men by having to wear a yellow coat as
a punishment; and our dons borrowed the idea, and made yellow tassels
the badges of intoxication. But for the credit of the University, I'm
glad to say that you'll not find many men so disgraced."
They now turned down the New Road, and came to a strongly castellated
building, which Mr. Larkyns pointed out (and truly) as Oxford Castle
or the Gaol; and he added (untruly), "if you hear Botany-Bay College*
spoken of, this is the place that's meant. It's a delicate way of
referring to the temporary sojourn that any undergrad has been forced
to make there, to say that he belongs to Botany-Bay College."
They now turned back, up Queen Street and High Street, when, as they
were passing All Saints, Mr. Larkyns pointed out a pale, intellectual
looking man who passed them, and said, "That man is Cram, the patent
safety. He's the first coach in Oxford."
"A coach!" said our freshman, in some wonder.
"Oh, I forgot you didn't know college-slang. I suppose a royal mail
is the only gentleman coach that ~you~ know of. Why, in Oxford, a
coach means a private tutor, you must know; and those who can't
afford a coach, get a cab, - ~alias~ a crib, - ~alias~ a translation.
You see, Verdant, you are gradually being initiated into Oxford
mysteries."
"I am, indeed," said our hero, to whom a new world was opening.
They had now turned round by the west end of St. Mary's, and were
passing Brasenose; and Mr. Larkyns drew Verdant's attention to the
brazen nose that is such a conspicuous object <VG069.JPG> over the
entrance-gate. "That," said he, "was modelled from a cast of the
Principal feature of the first Head of the college; and so the
college was named Brazen-nose.+ The nose was formerly used as a
place of punishment for any misbehaving Brazennosian, who had to sit
upon it for two hours, and was
---
* A name given to Worcester College, from its being the most distant
college.
+ Although we have a great respect for Mr. Larkyns, yet we strongly
sus-
[footnote continues next page]
-=-
[70 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
not ~countenanced~ until he had done so. These punishments were so
frequent that they gradually wore down the nose to its present small
dimensions.
"This round building," continued Mr. Larkyns, pointing to the
Radcliffe, "is the Vice-Chancellor's house. He has to go each night
up to that balcony on the top, and look round to see if all's safe.
Those heads," he said, as they passed the Ashmolean, "are supposed to
be the twelve Caesars; only there happen, I believe, to be thirteen
of them. I think that they are the busts of the original Heads of
Houses."
Mr. Larkyns' inventive powers having been now somewhat exhausted, he
proposed that they should go back to Brazenface and have some lunch.
This they did; after which Mr. Verdant Green wrote to his mother a
long account of his friend's kindness, and the trouble he had taken
to explain the most interesting sights that could be seen by a
Freshman.
"Are you writing to your governor, Verdant?" asked the friend, who
had made his way to our hero's rooms, and was now perfuming them with
a little tobacco-smoke.
"No; I am writing to my mama - mother, I mean!"
"Oh! to the missis!" was the reply; "that's just the same.
---
[cont.] pect that he is intentionally deceiving his friend. He has,
however, the benefit of a doubt, as the authorities differ on the
origin and meaning of the word Brasenose, as may be seen by the
following notices, to the last two of which the editor of ~Notes and
Queries~ has directed our attention:
"This curious appellation, which, whatever was the origin of it, has
been perpetuated by the symbol of a brazen nose here and at Stamford,
occurs with the modern orthography, but in one undivided word, so
early as 1278, in an inquisition now printed in ~The Hundred Rolls~,
though quoted by Wood from the manuscript record." -~Ingram's
Memorials of Oxford~.
"There is a spot in the centre of the city where Alfred is said to
have lived, and which may be called the native place or river-head of
three separate societies still existing, University, Oriel, and
Brasenose. Brasenose claims his palace, Oriel his church, and
University his school or academy. Of these, Brasenose College is
still called in its formal style ' the King's Hall,' which is the
name by which Alfred himself, in his laws, calls his palace; and it
has its present singular name from a corruption of ~brasinium~, or
~brasin-huse~, as having been originally located in that part of the
royal mansion which was devoted to the then important accommodation
of a brew house." -~From a Review of Ingram's Memorials in the
British Critic~, vol. xxiv, p. 139.
"Brasen Nose Hall, as the Oxford antiquary has shewn, may be traced
as far back as the time of Henry III., about the middle of the
thirteenth century; and early in the succeeding reign, 6th Edward I.,
1278, it was known by the name of Brasen Nose Hall, which peculiar
name was undoubtedly owing, as the same author observes, to the
circumstance of a nose of brass affixed to the gate. It is presumed,
however, that this conspicuous appendage of the portal was not formed
of the mixed metal which the word now denotes, but the genuine
produce of the mine; as is the nose, or rather face, of a lion or
leopard still remaining at Stamford, which also gave name to the
edifice it adorned. And hence, when Henry VIII. debased the coin by
an alloy of ~copper~, it was a common remark or proverb, that
'Testons were gone to Oxford, to study in ~Brasen~ Nose.' "
-~Churton's Life of Bishop Smyth~, p. 227.
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 71]
Well, had you not better take the opportunity to ask them to send you
a proper certificate that you have been vaccinated, and had the
measles favourably?"
"But what is that for?" inquired our Freshman, always anxious to
learn. "Your father sent up the certificate of my baptism, and I
thought that was the only one wanted."
"Oh," said Mr. Charles Larkyns, "they give you no end of trouble at
these places; and they require the vaccination certificate before you
go in for your responsions, - the Little-go, you know. You need not
mention my name in your letter as having told you this. It will be
quite enough to say that you understand such a thing is required."
Verdant accordingly penned the request; and Charles Larkyns smoked
on, and thought his friend the very beau-ideal of a Freshman. "By
the way, Verdant," he said, desirous not to lose any opportunity,
"you are going to wine with Smalls this evening; and, - excuse me
mentioning it, - but I suppose you would go properly dressed, - white
tie, kids, and that sort of thing, eh? Well! ta, ta, till then. 'We
meet again at Philippi!' "
Acting upon the hint thus given, our hero, when Hall was over made
himself uncommonly spruce in a new white tie, and spotless kids; and
as he was dressing, drew a mental picture of the party to which he
was going. It was to be composed of quiet, steady men, who were such
hard readers as to be called "fast men." He should therefore hear
some delightful and rational conversation on the literature of
ancient Greece and Rome, the present standard of scholarship in the
University, speculations on the forthcoming prize-poems, comparisons
between various expectant class-men, and delightful topics of
<VG071.JPG> a kindred nature; and the evening would be passed in a
grave and sedate manner; and after a couple of glasses of wine had
been leisurely sipped, they should have a very enjoyable tea, and
would separate for an early rest, mutually gratified and improved.
This was the nature of Mr. Verdant Green's speculations; but whether
they were realized or no, may be judged by transferring the scene a
few hours later to Mr. Smalls' room.
[72 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
CHAPTER VIII.
MR. VERDANT GREEN'S MORNING REFLECTIONS ARE NOT SO
PLEASANT AS HIS EVENING DIVERSIONS.
MR. SMALLS' room was filled with smoke and noise. Supper had been
cleared away; the glasses were now sparkling on the board, and the
wine was ruby bright. The table, moreover, was supplied with
spirituous liquors and mixtures of all descriptions, together with
many varieties of "cup," - a cup which not only cheers, but
occasionally inebriates; and this miscellany of liquids was now being
drunk on the premises by some score and a half of gentlemen, who were
sitting round the table, and standing or lounging about in various
parts of the room. Heading the table, sat the host, loosely attired
in a neat dressing gown of crimson and blue, in an attitude which
allowed him to swing his legs easily, if not gracefully, over the arm
of his chair, and to converse cheerfully with Charles Larkyns, who
was leaning over the chair-back. Visible to the naked eye, on Mr.
Smalls' left hand, appeared the white tie and full evening dress
which decorated the person of Mr. Verdant Green.
A great consumption of tobacco was going on, not only through the
medium of cigars, but also of meerschaums, short "dhudheens" of
envied colour, and the genuine yard of clay; and Verdant, while he
was scarcely aware of what he was doing, found himself, to his great
amazement, with a real cigar in his mouth, which he was industriously
sucking, and with great difficulty keeping alight. Our hero felt
that the unexpected exigencies of the case demanded from him some
sacrifice; while he consoled himself by the reflection, that, on the
homoeopathic principle of "likes cure likes," a cigar was the best
preventive against any ill effects arising from the combination of
the thirty gentlemen who were generating smoke with all the ardour of
lime-kilns or young volcanoes, and filling Mr. Smalls' small room
with an atmosphere that was of the smoke, smoky. Smoke produces
thirst; and the cup, punch, egg-flip, sherry-cobblers, and other
liquids, which had been so liberally provided, were being consumed by
the members of the party as though it had been their drink from
childhood; while the conversation was of a kind very different to
what our hero had anticipated, being for the most part vapid and
unmeaning, and (must it be confessed?) occasionally too highly
flavoured with improprieties for it to be faithfully recorded in
these pages of most perfect propriety.
The literature of ancient Greece and Rome was not even referred to;
and when Verdant, who, from the unusual com-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 73]
bination of the smoke and liquids, was beginning to feel extremely
amiable and talkative, - made a reflective observation (addressed to
the company generally) which sounded like the words "Nunc vino
pellite curas, Cras ingens,"* - he was immediately interrupted by the
voice of Mr. Bouncer, crying out, "Who's that talking shop about
engines? Holloa, Giglamps!" - Mr. Bouncer, it must be observed, had
facetiously adopted the ~sobriquet~ which had been bestowed on
<VG073.JPG> Verdant and his spectacles on their first appearance
outside the Oxford coach, - "Holloa, Giglamps, is that you
ill-treating the dead languages? I'm ashamed of you! a venerable
party like you ought to be above such things. There! don't blush,
old feller, but give us a song! It's the punishment for talking shop,
you know."
There was an immediate hammering of tables and jingling of glasses,
accompanied with loud cries of "Mr. Green for a song! Mr. Green! Mr.
Giglamps' song!" cries which nearly brought our hero to the verge of
idiotcy.
Charles Larkyns saw this, and came to the rescue. "Gentlemen," he
said, addressing the company, "I know that my friend Verdant ~can~
sing, and that, like a good bird, he ~will~
---
* Horace, car. i od. vii
-=-
[74 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
sing. But while he is mentally looking over his numerous stock of
songs, and selecting one for our amusement, I beg to fill up our
valuable time, by asking you to fill up a bumper to the health of our
esteemed host Smalls (~vociferous cheers~) - a man whose private
worth is only to be equalled by the purity of his milk-punch and the
excellence of his weeds (~hear hear~). Bumpers, gentlemen, and no
heel-taps! and though I am sorry to interfere with Mr. Fosbrooke's
private enjoyments, yet I must beg to suggest to him that he has been
so much engaged in drowning his personal cares in the bowl over which
he is so skilfully presiding, that my glass has been allowed to
sparkle on the board empty and useless." And as Charles Larkyns held
out his glass towards Mr. Fosbrooke and the punch-bowl, he trolled
out, in a rich, manly voice, old Cowley's anacreontic:
"Fill up the bowl then, fill it high!
Fill all the glasses there! For why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?"
By the time that the "man of morals" had ladled out for the company,
and that Mr. Smalls' health had been drunk and responded to amid
uproarious applause, Charles Larkyns' friendly diversion in our
hero's favour had succeeded, and Mr. Verdant Green had regained his
confidence, and had decided upon one of those vocal efforts which, in
the bosom of his own family, and to the pianoforte accompaniment of
his sisters, was accustomed to meet with great applause. And when he
had hastily tossed off another glass of milk-punch (merely to clear
his throat), he felt bold enough to answer the spirit-rappings which
were again demanding "Mr. Green's song!" It was given much in the
following manner:
~Mr. Verdant Green (in low plaintive tones, and fresh alarm at
hearing the sounds of his own voice)~. "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in
mar-arble halls, with" -
~Mr. Bouncer (interrupting)~. "Spit it out, Giglamps! Dis child
can't hear whether it's Maudlin Hall you're singing about, or what."
~Omnes~. "Order! or-~der~! Shut up, Bouncer!"
~Charles Larkyns (encouragingly)~. "Try back, Verdant: never mind."
~Mr. Verdant Green (tries back, with increased confusion of ideas,
resulting principally from the milk-punch and tobacco)~. "I dreamt
that I dwe-elt in mar-arble halls, with vassals and serfs at my
si-hi-hide; and - and - I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I really
forget - oh, I know! - and I also dre-eamt, which ple-eased me most -
no, that's not it" -
~Mr. Bouncer (who does not particularly care for the words of a
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 75]
song, but only appreciates the chorus)~ - "That'll do, old feller! We
aint pertickler,-(~rushes with great deliberation and noise to the
chorus~) "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the sa-ha-hame - chorus,
gentlemen!"
~Omnes (in various keys and time)~. "That you lo-oved me sti-ill the
same."
~Mr. Bouncer (to Mr. Green, alluding remotely to the opera)~. "Now
my Bohemian gal, can't you come out to-night? Spit us out a yard or
two more, Giglamps."
~Mr. Verdant Green (who has again taken the opportunity to clear his
throat)~. "I dreamt that I dwe-elt in mar-arble- no! I beg pardon!
sang that (~desperately~) - that sui-uitors sou-ught my hand, that
knights on their (~hic~) ben-ended kne-e-ee - had (~hic~) riches too
gre-eat to" - (~Mr. Verdant Green smiles benignantly upon the
company~) - "Don't rec'lect anymo."
~Mr. Bouncer (who is not to be defrauded of the chorus)~. "Chorus,
gentlemen! - That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the sa-a-hame!"
~Omnes (ad libitum)~. "That you'll lo-ove me sti-ill the same!"
Though our hero had ceased to sing, he was still continuing to clear
his throat by the aid of the milk-punch, and was again industriously
sucking his cigar, which he had not yet succeeded in getting half
through, although he had re-lighted it about twenty times. All this
was observed by the watchful eyes of Mr. Bouncer, who, whispering to
his neighbour, and bestowing a distributive wink on the company
generally, rose and made the following remarks:-
"Mr. Smalls, and gents all: I don't often get on my pins to trouble
you with a neat and appropriate speech; but on an occasion like the
present, when we are honoured with the presence of a party who has
just delighted us with what I may call a flood of harmony (~hear,
hear~), - and has pitched it so uncommon strong in the vocal line, as to
considerably take the shine out of the woodpecker-tapping, that we've
read of in the pages of history (~hear, hear: "Go it again,
Bouncer!"~), - when, gentlemen, I see before me this old original
Little Wobbler, - need I say that I allude to Mr. Verdant Green? -
(~vociferous cheers~)- I feel it a sort of, what you call a
privilege, d'ye see, to stand on my pins, and propose that respected
party's jolly good health (~renewed cheers~). Mr. Verdant Green,
gentlemen, has but lately come among us, and is, in point of fact,
what you call a freshman; but, gentlemen, we've already seen enough
of him to feel aware that - that Brazenface has gained an
acquisition, which - which - (~cries of "Tally-ho! Yoicks! Hark
forrud!"~) Exactly so, gentlemen: so, as I see you are all anxious to
do honour to our freshman, I beg, without further preface, to give
you the health of Mr. Verdant Green! With all the honours. Chorus,
gents!
[76 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow!!
For he's a jolly good f-e-e-ell-ow!!!
Which nobody can deny!"
This chorus was taken up and prolonged in the most indefinite manner;
little Mr. Bouncer fairly revelling in it, and only regretting that
he had not his post-horn with him to further contribute to the
harmony of the evening. It seemed to be a great art in the singers
of the chorus to dwell as long as possible on the third repetition of
the word "fellow," and in the most defiant manner to pounce down on
the bold affirmation by which it is followed; and then to lyrically
proclaim that, not only was it a way they had in the Varsity to drive
dull care away, but that the same practice was also pursued in the
army and navy for the attainment of a similar end.
When the chorus had been sung over three or four times, and Mr.
Verdant Green's name had been proclaimed with equal noise, that
gentleman rose (with great difficulty), to return thanks. He was
understood to speak as follows: <VG076.JPG>
"Genelum anladies (~cheers~), - I meangenelum. (~"That's about the
ticket, old feller!" from Mr. Bouncer.~) Customd syam plic speakn, I
- I -(~hear, hear~) - feel bliged drinkmyel. I'm fresman, genelum,
and prowtitle (~loud cheers~). Myfren Misserboucer, fallowme callm
myfren! (~"In course, Giglamps, you do me proud, old feller."~)
Myfren Misserboucer seszime fresman - prow title, sureyou (~hear,
hear~). Genelmun, werall jolgoodfles, anwe wogohotillmorrin! (~"We
won't, we won't! not a bit of it!"~) Gelmul, I'm fresmal, an
namesgreel, gelmul (~cheers~). Fanyul dousmewor,
herescardinpock'lltellm! Misser Verdalgreel, Braseface, Oxul
fresmal, anprowtitle! (~Great cheering and rattling of glasses,
during which Mr. Verdant Green's coat-tails are made the receptacles
for empty bottles, lobsters' claws, and other miscellaneous
articles.~) Misserboucer said was fresmal. If Misserboucer
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 77]
wantsultme (~"No, no!"~), herescardinpocklltellm namesverdalgreel,
Braseface! Not shameofitgelmul! prowtitle! (~Great applause.~) I
doewaltilsul Misserboucer! thenwhysee sultme? thaswaw Iwaltknow!
(~Loud cheers, and roars of laughter, in which Mr. Verdant Green
suddenly joins to the best of his ability.~) I'm anoxful fresmal,
gelmul, 'fmyfrel Misserboucer loumecallimso. (~Cheers and laughter,
in which Mr. Verdant Green feebly joins.~) Anweerall jolgoodfles,
anwe wogohotilmorril, an I'm fresmal, gelmul, anfanyul dowsmewor -
an I - doefeel quiwell!"
This was the termination of Mr. Verdant Green's speech, for after
making a few unintelligible sounds, his knees suddenly gave way, and
with a benevolent smile he disappeared beneath the table.
* * * * * * * *
Half an hour afterwards two gentlemen might have been seen, bearing
with staggering steps across the moonlit quad the <VG077.JPG> huddled
form of a third gentleman, who was clothed in full evening dress, and
appeared incapable of taking care of himself. The two first
gentlemen set down their burden under an open doorway, painted over
with a large _4_; and then, by pulling and pushing, assisted it to
guide its steps up a narrow and intricate staircase, until they had
gained the third floor, and stood before a door, over which the
moonlight revealed, in newly-painted white letters, the name of "MR.
VERDANT GREEN."
"Well, old feller," said the first gentleman, "how do you feel now,
after 'Sich a getting up stairs'?"
"Feel much berrer now," said their late burden; "feel quite-comfurble!
Shallgotobed!"
"Well, Giglamps," said the first speaker, "and By-by won't be at all
a bad move for you. D'ye think you can unrig yourself and get
between the sheets, eh, my beauty?"
"Its allri, allri!" was the reply; "limycandle!"
"No, no," said the second gentleman, as he pulled up the
window-blind, and let in the moonlight; "here's quite as much light
as you want. It's almost morning."
"Sotis," said the gentleman in the evening costume: "anlittlebirds
beginsingsoon! Ilike littlebirds sing! jollittlebirds!" The speaker
had suddenly fallen upon his bed, and was lying thereon at full
length, with his feet on the pillow.
[78 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
"He'll be best left in this way," said the second speaker, as he
removed the pillow to the proper place, and raised the prostrate
gentleman's head; "I'll take off his choker and make him easy about
the neck, and then we'll shut him up, and leave him. Why the beggar's
asleep already!" And so the two gentlemen went away, and left him
safe and sleeping.
It is conjectured, however, that he must have got up shortly after
this, and finding himself with his clothes on, must have considered
that a lighted candle was indispensably necessary to undress by; for
when Mrs. Tester came at her usual early hour to light the fires and
prepare the sitting-rooms, she discovered him lying on the carpet
embracing the coal-skuttle, <VG078.JPG> with a candle by his side.
The good woman raised him, and did not leave him until she had, in
the most motherly manner, safely tucked him up in bed.
* * *
Clink, clank! clink, clank! tingle, tangle! tingle, tangle! Are
demons smiting ringing hammers into Mr. Verdant Green's brain, or is
the dreadful bell summoning him to rise for morning chapel?
Mr. Filcher puts an end to the doubt by putting his head in at the
bedroom door, and saying, "Time for chapel, sir! Chapel," thought Mr.
Filcher; "here is a chap ill, indeed! - Bain't you well, sir?
Restless you look!"
Oh, the shame and agony that Mr. Verdant Green felt! The desire to
bury his head under the clothes, away from Robert's and everyone
else's sight; the fever that throbbed his brain and parched his lips,
and made him long to drink up Ocean; the eyes that felt like burning
lead; the powerless hands that trembled like a weak old man's; the
voice that came in faltering tones that jarred the brain at every
word! How he despised himself; how he loathed the very idea of wine;
how he resolved never, never to transgress so again! But perhaps Mr.
Verdant Green was not the only Oxford freshman who has made this
resolution.
"Bain't you well, sir?" repeated Mr. Filcher, with a passing thought
that freshmen were sadly degenerating, and could
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 79]
not manage their three bottles as they did when he was first a scout:
"bain't you well, sir?"
"Not very well, Robert, thank you. I - my head aches, and I'm afraid
I shall not be able to get up for chapel. Will the Master be very
angry?"
"Well, he ~might~ be, you see, sir," replied Mr. Filcher, who never
lost an opportunity of making anything out of his master's
infirmities; "but if you'll leave it to me, sir, I'll make it all
right for you, ~I~ will. Of course you'd like to take out an
~aeger~, sir; and I can bring you your Commons just the same. Will
that do, sir?".
"Oh, thank you; yes, any thing. You will find five shillings in my
waistcoat-pocket, Robert; please to take it; but I can't eat."
"Thank'ee, sir," said the scout, as he abstracted the five shillings;
"but you'd better have a bit of somethin', sir; - a cup of strong
tea, or somethin'. Mr. Smalls, sir, when he were pleasant, he always
had beer, sir; but p'raps you ain't been used to bein' pleasant, sir,
and slops might suit you better, sir."
"Oh, any thing, any thing!" groaned our poor, unheroic hero, as he
turned his face to the wall, and endeavoured to recollect in what way
he had been "pleasant" the night before. But, alas! the wells of his
memory had, for the time, been poisoned, and nothing clear or pure
could be drawn therefrom. So he got up and looked at himself in the
glass, and scarcely recognized the tangled-haired, sallow-faced
wretch, whose bloodshot eyes gazed heavily at him from the mirror.
So he nervously drained the water-bottle, and buried himself once
more among the tossed and tumbled bed-clothes.
The tea really did him some good, and enabled him to recover
sufficient nerve to go feebly through the operation of dressing;
though it was lucky that nature had not yet brought Mr. Verdant Green
to the necessity of shaving, for the handling of a razor might have
been attended with suicidal results, and have brought these veracious
memoirs and their hero to an untimely end.
He had just sat down to a second edition of tea, and was reading a
letter that the post had brought him from his sister Mary, in which
she said, "I dare say by this time you have found Mr. Charles Larkyns
a very ~delightful~ companion, and I ~am sure~ a very ~valuable~ one;
as, from what the rector says, he appears to be so ~steady~, and has
such ~nice quiet~ companions:" - our hero had read as far as this,
when a great noise just without his door, caused the letter to drop
from his trembling hands; and, between loud ~fanfares~ from a
post-horn, and heavy thumps upon the oak, a voice was heard,
demanding "Entrance in the Proctor's name."
[80 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
Mr. Verdant Green had for the first time "sported his oak." Under
any circumstances it would have been a mere form, since his bashful
politeness would have induced him to open it to any comer; but, at
the dreaded name of the Proctor, he sprang from his chair, and while
impositions, rustications, and expulsions rushed tumultuously through
his disordered brain, he nervously undid the springlock, and admitted
- not the Proctor, but the "steady" Mr. Charles Larkyns and his "nice
quiet companion," little Mr. Bouncer, who testified his joy at the
success of their ~coup d'etat~, by blowing on his horn loud blasts
that might have been borne by Fontarabian echoes, and which rang
through poor Verdant's head with indescribable jarrings.
"Well, Verdant," said Charles Larkyns, "how do you find yourself this
morning? You look rather shaky."
"He ain't a very lively picter, is he?" remarked little Mr. Bouncer,
with the air of a connoisseur; "peakyish you feel, don't you, now,
with a touch of the mulligrubs in your collywobbles? Ah, I know what
it is, my boy."
It was more than our hero did; and he could only reply that he did
not feel very well. "I - I had a glass of claret after some
lobster-salad, and I think it disagreed with me."
"Not a doubt of it, Verdant," said Charles Larkyns very gravely; "it
would have precisely the same effect that the salmon always has at a
public dinner, - bring on great hilarity, succeeded by a pleasing
delirium, and concluding in a horizontal position, and a demand for
soda-water."
"I hope," said our hero, rather faintly, "that I did not conduct
myself in an unbecoming manner last night; for I am sorry to say that
I do not remember all that occurred."
"I should think not, Giglamps, You were as drunk as a besom," said
little Mr. Bouncer, with a side wink to Mr. Larkyns, to prepare that
gentleman for what was to follow. "Why, you got on pretty well till
old Slowcoach came in, and then you certainly did go it, and no
mistake!"
"Mr. Slowcoach!" groaned the freshman. "Good gracious! is it
possible that ~he~ saw me? I don't remember it."
"And it would be lucky for you if ~he~ didn't," replied Mr, Bouncer.
"Why his rooms, you know, are in the same angle of the quad as
Smalls'; so, when you came to shy the empty bottles out of Smalls'
window at ~his~ window -"
"Shy empty bottles! Oh!" gasped the freshman.
"Why, of course, you see, he couldn't stand that sort of game, - it
wasn't to be expected; so he puts his head out of the bedroom window,
- and then, don't you remember crying out, as you pointed to the
tassel of his night-cap sticking up straight
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 81]
on end, 'Tally-ho! Unearth'd at last! Look at his brush!' Don't you
remember that, Giglamps?"
"Oh, oh, no!" groaned Mr. Bouncer's victim; "I can't remember, - oh,
what ~could~ have induced me!"
"By Jove, you ~must~ have been screwed! Then I daresay you don't
remember wanting to have a polka with him, when he came up to Smalls'
rooms?"
"A polka! Oh dear! Oh no! Oh!"
"Or asking him if his mother knew he was out, - and what he'd take for
his cap without the tassel; and telling him that he was the joy of
your heart, - and that you should never be happy unless he'd smile as
he was won't to smile, and would love you then as now, - and saying all
sorts of bosh? What, not remember it! 'Oh, what a noble mind is
here o'erthrown!' as some cove says in Shakespeare. But how screwed
you ~must~ have been, Giglamps!"
"And do you think," inquired our hero, after a short but sufficiently
painful reflection, - "do you think that Mr. Slowcoach will - oh! -
expel me?"
"Why, it's rather a shave for it," replied his tormentor; "but the
best thing you can do is to write an apology at once: pitch it pretty
strong in the pathetic line, - say it's your first offence, and that
you'll never be a naughty boy again, and all that sort of thing. You
just do that, Giglamps, and I'll see that the note goes to - the
proper place."
"Oh, thank you!" said the freshman; and while, with equal difficulty
from agitation both of mind and body, he composed and penned the
note, Mr. Bouncer ordered up some buttery <VG081.JPG> beer, and
Charles Larkyns prepared some soda-water with a dash of brandy, which
he gave Verdant to drink, and which considerably refreshed that
gentleman. "And I should advise you," he said, "to go out for a
constitutional; for walking-time's come, although you have but just
done your breakfast. A blow up Headington Hill will do you good, and
set you on your legs again."
So Verdant, after delivering up his note to Mr. Bouncer, took his
friend's advice, and set out for his constitutional in his cap and
gown, feeling afraid to move without them, lest he
[82 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
should thereby trespass some law. This, of course, gained him some
attention after he had crossed Magdalen Bridge; and he might have
almost been taken for the original of that impossible gownsman who
appears in Turner's well-known "View of Oxford, from Ferry Hincksey,"
as wandering-
"Remote, unfriended, solitary, ~slow,~" -
in a corn-field, in the company of an umbrella!
Among the many pedestrians and equestrians that he encountered, our
freshman espied a short and very stout gentleman, whose shovel-hat,
short apron, and general decanical costume, proclaimed him to be a
don of some importance. <VG082.JPG>
He was riding a pad-nag, who ambled placidly along, without so much
as hinting at an outbreak into a canter; a performance that, as it
seemed, might have been attended with disastrous consequences to his
rider. Our hero noticed, that the trio of undergraduates who were
walking before him, while they passed others, who were evidently
dons, without the slightest notice (being in mufti), yet not only
raised their hats to the stout gentleman, but also separated for that
purpose, and performed the salute at intervals of about ten yards.
And he further remarked, that while the stout gentleman appeared to
be exceedingly gratified at the notice he received, yet that he had
also very great difficulty in returning the rapid salutations; and
only accomplished them and retained his seat by catching at the
pommel of his saddle, or the mane of his steed, - a proceeding which
the pad-nag seemed perfectly used to.
Mr. Verdant Green returned home from his walk, feeling all the better
for the fresh air and change of scene; but he still
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 83]
looked, as his neighbour, Mr. Bouncer, kindly informed him, "uncommon
seedy, and doosid fishy about the eyes;" and it was some days even
before he had quite recovered from the novel excitement of Mr.
Smalls' "quiet party."
CHAPTER IX.
MR. VERDANT GREEN ATTENDS LECTURES AND, IN DESPITE OF
SERMONS, HAS DEALINGS WITH FILTHY LUCRE.
OUR freshman, like all other freshmen, now began to think seriously
of work, and plunged desperately into all the lectures that it was
possible for him to attend, beginning every course with a zealousness
that shewed him to be filled with the idea that such a plan was
eminently necessary for the attainment of his degree; in all this in
every respect deserving the Humane Society's medal for his brave
plunge into the depths of the Pierian spring, to fish up the beauties
that had been immersed therein by the poets of old. When we say that
our freshman, like other freshmen, "began" this course, we use the
verb advisedly; for, like many other freshmen who start with a burst
in learning's race, he soon got winded, and fell back among the ruck.
But the course of lectures, like the course of true love, will not
always run smooth, even to those who undertake it with the same
courage as Mr. Verdant Green.
The dryness of the daily routine of lectures, which varied about as
much as the steak-and-chop, chop-and-steak dinners of ancient
taverns, was occasionally relieved by episodes, which, though not
witty in themselves, were yet the cause of wit in others; for it
takes but little to cause amusement in a lecture-room, where a bad
construe; or the imaginative excuses of late-comers; or the confusion
of some young gentleman who has to turn over the leaf of his Greek
play and finds it uncut; or the pounding of the same gentleman in the
middle of the first chorus; or his offensive extrication therefrom
through the medium of some Cumberland barbarian; or the officiousness
of the same barbarian to pursue the lecture when every one else has,
with singular unanimity, "read no further;" - all these circumstances,
although perhaps dull enough in themselves, are nevertheless
productive of some mirth in a lecture-room.
But if there were often late-comers to the lectures, there were
occasionally early-goers from them. Had Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke
an engagement to ride his horse ~Tearaway~ in the amateur
steeple-chase, and was he constrained, by circumstances over which
(as he protested) he had no control, to put
[84 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
in a regular appearance at Mr. Slowcoach's lectures, what was it
necessary for him to do more than to come to lecture in a long
greatcoat, put his handkerchief to his face as though his nose were
bleeding, look appealingly at Mr. Slowcoach, and, as he made his
exit, pull aside the long greatcoat, and display to his admiring
colleagues the snowy cords and tops that would soon be pressing
against ~Tearaway's~ sides, that gallant animal being then in
waiting, with its trusty groom, in the alley at the back of
Brazenface? And if little Mr. Bouncer, for astute <VG084.JPG>
reasons of his own, wished Mr. Slowcoach to believe that he (Mr. B.)
was particularly struck with his (Mr. S.'s) remarks on the force of
{kata} in composition, what was to prevent Mr. Bouncer from feigning
to make a note of these remarks by the aid of a cigar instead of an
ordinary pencil?
But besides the regular lectures of Mr. Slowcoach, our hero had also
the privilege of attending those of the Rev. Richard Harmony. Much
learning, though it had not made Mr. Harmony mad, had, at least in
conjunction with his natural tendencies, contributed to make him
extremely eccentric; while to much perusal of Greek and Hebrew MSS.,
he probably owed his defective vision. These infirmities, instead of
being regarded with sympathy, as wounds received by Mr. Harmony in
the classical engagements in the various fields of literature, were,
to Mr. Verdant Green's surprise, much imposed upon;
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 85]
for it was a favourite pastime with the gentlemen who attended Mr.
Harmony's lectures, to gradually raise up the lecture-table by a
concerted action, and when Mr. Harmony's book had nearly reached to
the level of his nose, to then suddenly drop the table to its
original level; upon which Mr. Harmony, to the immense gratification
of all concerned, would rub his eyes, wipe his glasses, and murmur,
"Dear me! dear me! how my head swims this morning!" And then he
would perhaps ring <VG085.JPG> for his servant, and order his usual
remedy, an orange, at which he would suck abstractedly, nor discover
any difference in the flavour even when a lemon was surreptitiously
substituted. And thus he would go on through the lecture, sucking
his orange (or lemon), explaining and expounding in the most skilful
and lucid manner, and yet, as far as the "table-movement" was
concerned, as unsuspecting and as witless as a little child.
Mr. Verdant Green not only (at first) attended lectures with
exemplary diligence and regularity, but he also duly went to morning
and evening chapel; nor, when Sundays came, did he neglect to turn
his feet towards St. Mary's to hear the University sermons. Their
effect was as striking to him as it probably is to most persons who
have only been accustomed to the usual services of country churches.
First, there was the peculiar character of the congregation: down
below, the vice-chancellor in his throne, overlooking the other dons
in
[86 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
their stalls (being "a complete realization of stalled Oxon!" as
Charles Larkyns whispered to our hero), who were relieved in colour
by their crimson or scarlet hoods; and then, "upstairs," in the north
and the great west galleries, the black <VG086.JPG> mass of
undergraduates; while a few ladies' bonnets and heads of male
visitors peeped from the pews in the aisles, or looked out from the
curtains of the organ-gallery, where, "by the kind permission of Dr.
Elvey," they were accommodated with seats, and watched with wonder,
while
"The wild wizard's fingers,
With magical skill,
Made music that lingers,
In memory still."
Then there was the bidding-prayer, in which Mr. Verdant Green was
somewhat astonished to hear the long list of founders
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 87]
and benefactors, "such as were, Philip Pluckton, Bishop of Iffley;
King Edward the Seventh; Stephen de Henley, Earl of Bagley, and Maud
his wife; Nuneham Courtney, knight," with a long et-cetera; though,
as the preacher happened to be a Brazenface man, our hero found that
he was "most chiefly bound to praise Clement Abingdon, Bishop of
Jericho, and founder of the college of Brazenface; Richard Glover,
Duke of Woodstock; Giles Peckwater, Abbot of Beney; and Binsey
Green, Doctor of Music; - benefactors of the same."
Then there was the sermon itself; the abstrusely learned and
classical character of which, at first, also astonished him, after
having been so long used to the plain and highly practical advice
which the rector, Mr. Larkyns, knew how to convey so well and so
simply to his rustic hearers. But as soon as he had reflected on the
very different characters of the two congregations, Mr. Verdant Green
at once recognized the appropriateness of each class of sermons to
its peculiar hearers; yet he could not altogether drive away the
thought, how the generality of those who had on previous Sundays been
his fellow-worshippers would open their blue Saxon eyes, and ransack
their rustic brains, as to "what ~could~ ha' come to rector," if he
were to indulge in Greek and Latin quotations, - ~somewhat~ after the
following style. "And though this interpretation may in these days be
disputed, yet we shall find that it was once very generally received.
For the learned St. Chrysostom is very clear on this point, where he
says, 'Arma virumque cano, rusticus expectat, sub tegmine fagi'; of
which the words of Irenaeus are a confirmation -
{otototoio, papaperax, poluphloisboio thalassaes}."
Our hero, indeed, could not but help wondering what the fairer portion
of the congregation made of these parts of the sermons, to whom,
probably, the sentences just quoted would have sounded as full of
meaning as those they really heard.
* * * * * * * *
"Hallo, Giglamps!" said the cheery voice of little Mr. Bouncer, as
he looked one morning into Verdant's rooms, followed by his two
bull-terriers; "why don't you sport something in the dog line?
Something in the bloodhound or tarrier way. Ain't you fond o' dogs?"
"Oh, very!" replied our hero. "I once had a very nice one, - a King
Charles."
"Oh!" observed Mr. Bouncer, "one of them beggars that you have to
feed with spring chickens, and get up with curling tongs. Ah!
they're all very well in their way, and do for women and
carriage-exercise; but give ~me~ this sort of thing!" and Mr. Bouncer
patted one of his villainous looking pets, who
[88 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
wagged his corkscrew tail in reply. "Now, these are beauties, and no
mistake! What you call useful and ornamental; ain't you, Buzzy? The
beggars are brothers; so I call them Huz and Buz:- Huz his
first-born, you know, and Buz his brother."
"I should like a dog," said Verdant; "but where could I keep one?"
"Oh, anywhere!" replied Mr. Bouncer confidently. "I keep these
beggars in the little shop for coal, just outside the door. It ain't
the law, I know; but what's the odds as long as they're happy?
~They~ think it no end of a lark. I once had a Newfunland, and tried
~him~ there; but the obstinate brute considered it too small for him,
and barked himself in such an unnatural manner, that at last he'd got
no wool on the top of his head, - just the place where the wool ought
to grow, you know; so I swopped the beggar to a Skimmery* man for a
regular slap-up set of pets of the ballet, framed and glazed,
petticoats and all, mind you. But about your dog, Giglamps: -that
cupboard there would be just the ticket; you could put him under the
wine-bottles, and then there'd be wine above and whine below.
~Videsne puer~? D'ye twig, young 'un? But if you're squeamish about
that, there are heaps of places in the town where you could keep a
beast."
So, when our hero had been persuaded that the possession of an animal
of the terrier species was absolutely necessary to a University man's
existence, he had not to look about long without having the void
filled up. Money will in most places procure any thing, from a grant
of arms to a pair of wooden legs; so it is not surprising if, in
Oxford, such an every-day commodity as a dog can be obtained through
the medium of "filthy lucre;" for there was a well-known dog-fancier
and proprietor, whose surname was that of the rich substantive just
mentioned, to which had been prefixed the "filthy" adjective,
probably for the sake of euphony. As usual, Filthy Lucre was
clumping with his lame leg up and down the pavement just in front of
the Brazenface gate, accompanied by his last "new and extensive
assortment" of terriers of every variety, which he now pulled up for
the inspection of Mr. Verdant Green.
"Is it a long-aird dawg, or a smooth 'un, as you'd most fancy?"
inquired Mr. Lucre. "Har, sir!" he continued, in a flattering tone, as
he saw our hero's eye dwelling on a Skye terrier; "I see you're a
gent as ~does~ know a good style of dawg, when you see 'un! It ain't
often as you see a Skye sich as that, sir! Look at his colour, sir,
and the way he looks out of his 'air! He answers to the name of
~Mop~, sir, in
---
* Oxford slang for "St. Mary's Hall."
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 89]
consekvence of the length of his 'air; and he's cheap as dirt, sir,
at four-ten! It's a throwin' of him away at the price; and I
shouldn't do it, but I've got more dawgs than I've room for; so I'm
obligated to make a sacrifice. Four-ten, sir! 'Ad the distemper, and
everythink, and a reg'lar good 'un for the varmin."
His merits also being testified to by Mr. Larkyns and Mr. Bouncer
(who was considered a high authority in canine <VG089.JPG> matters),
and Verdant also liking the quaint appearance of the dog, ~Mop~
eventually became his property, for "four-ten" ~minus~ five
shillings, but ~plus~ a pint of buttery beer, which Mr. Lucre always
pronounced to be customary "in all dealins whatsumever atween
gentlemen." Verdant was highly gratified at possessing a real
University dog, and he patted ~Mop~, and said, "Poo dog! poo Mop! poo
fellow then!" and thought what a pet his sisters would make of him
when he took him back home with him for the holi - the Vacation!
~Mop~ was for following Mr. Lucre, who had clumped away up the
street; and his new master had some difficulty in keeping him at his
heels. By Mr. Bouncer's advice, he at once took him over the river
to the field opposite the Christ Church
[90 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
meadows, in order to test his rat-killing powers. How this could be
done out in the open country, our hero was at a loss to know; but he
discreetly held his tongue, for he was gradually becoming aware that
a freshman in Oxford must live to learn, and that, as with most men,
~experientia docet~.
They had just been punted over the river, and ~Mop~ had been restored
to ~terra firma~, when Mr. Bouncer's remark of "There's the cove
that'll do the trick for you!" directed Verdant's <VG090.JPG>
attention to an individual, who, from his general appearance, might
have been first cousin to "Filthy Lucre," only that his live stock
was of a different description. Slung from his shoulders was a large
but shallow wire cage, in which were about a dozen doomed rats, whose
futile endeavours to make their escape by running up the sides of
their prison were regarded with the most intense earnestness by a
group of terriers, who gave way to various phases of excitement. In
his hand he carried a small circular cage, containing two or three
rats for immediate use. On the receipt of sixpence, one of these was
liberated; and a few yards start being (sportsmanlike) allowed, the
speculator's terrier was then let loose, joined gratuitously, after a
short interval, by a perfect pack in full cry, with a human chorus of
"Hoo rat! Too loo! loo dog!" The rat turned, twisted, doubled,
became confused,
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 91]
was overtaken, and, with one grip and a shake, was dead; while the
excited pack returned to watch and jump at the wire cages until
another doomed prisoner was tossed forth to them. Gentlemen on their
way for a walk were thus enabled to wile away a few minutes at the
noble sport, and indulge themselves and their dogs with a little
healthy excitement; while the boating costume of other gentlemen
shewed that they had for a while left aquatic pursuits, and had
strolled up from the river to indulge in "the sports of the fancy."
Although his new master invested several sixpences on ~Mop's~ behalf,
yet that ungrateful animal, being of a passive temperament of mind as
regarded rats, and a slow movement of body, in consequence of his
long hair impeding his progress, rather disgraced himself by allowing
the sport to be taken from his very teeth. But he still further
disgraced himself, when he had been taken back to Brazenface, by
howling all through the night in the cupboard where he had been
placed, thereby setting on Mr. Bouncer's two bull-terriers, Huz and
Buz, to echo the sounds with redoubled fury from their coal-hole
quarters; thus causing loss of sleep and a great outlay of Saxon
expletives to all the dwellers on the staircase. It was in vain that
our hero got out of bed and opened the cupboard-door, and said, "Poo
Mop! good dog, then!" it was in vain that Mr. Bouncer shied boots at
the coal-hole, and threatened Huz and Buz with loss of life; it was
in vain that the tenant of the attic, Mr. Sloe, who was a
reading-man, and sat up half the night, working for his degree, - it
was in vain that he opened his door, and mildly declared (over the
banisters), that it was impossible to get up Aristotle while such a
noise was being made; it was in vain that Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke,
whose rooms were on the other side of Verdant's, came and
administered to ~Mop~ severe punishment with a tandem-whip (it was a
favourite boast with Mr. Fosbrooke, that he could flick a fly from
his leader's ear); it was in vain to coax ~Mop~ with chicken-bones:
he would neither be bribed nor frightened, and after a deceitful lull
of a few minutes, just when every one was getting to sleep again, his
melancholy howl would be raised with renewed vigour, and Huz and Buz
would join for sympathy.
"I tell you what, Giglamps," said Mr. Bouncer the next morning;
"this game'll never do. Bark's a very good thing to take in its
proper way, when you're in want of it, and get it with port wine; but
when you get it by itself and in too large doses, it ain't pleasant,
you know. Huz and Buz are quiet enough, as long as they're let
alone; and I should advise you to keep ~Mop~ down at Spavin's
stables, or somewhere. But first, just let me give the brute the
hiding he deserves."
[92 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
Poor ~Mop~ underwent his punishment like a martyr; and in the course
of the day an arrangement was made with Mr. Spavin for ~Mop's~ board
and lodging at his stables. But when Verdant called there the next
day, for the purpose of taking him for a walk, there was no ~Mop~ to
be found; taking advantage of the carelessness of one of Mr. Spavin's
men, he had bolted through the open door, and made his escape. Mr.
Bouncer, at a subsequent period, declared that he met ~Mop~ in the
company of a well-known Regent-street fancier; but, however that may
be, ~Mop~ was lost to Mr. Verdant Green.
CHAPTER X.
MR. VERDANT GREEN REFORMS HIS TAILORS' BILLS AND RUNS
UP OTHERS. HE ALSO APPEARS IN A RAPID ACT OF
HORSEMANSHIP, AND FINDS ISIS COOL IN SUMMER.
THE state of Mr. Verdant Green's outward man had long offended Mr.
Charles Larkyns' more civilized taste; and he one day took occasion
delicately to hint to his friend, that it would conduce more to his
appearance as an Oxford undergraduate, if he forswore the primitive
garments that his country-tailor had condemned him to wear, and
adapted the "build" of his dress to the peculiar requirements of
university fashion.
Acting upon this friendly hint, our freshman at once betook himself
to the shop where he had bought his cap and gown, and found its
proprietor making use of the invisible soap and washing his hands in
the imperceptible water, as though he had not left that act of
imaginary cleanliness since Verdant and his father had last seen him.
"Oh, certainly, sir; an abundant variety," was his reply to Verdant's
question, if he could show him any patterns that were fashionable in
Oxford. "The greatest stock hout of London, I should say, sir,
decidedly. This is a nice unpretending gentlemanly thing, sir, that
we make up a good deal!" and he spread a shaggy substance before the
freshman's eyes.
"What do you make it up for?" inquired our hero, who thought it more
nearly resembled the hide of his lamented ~Mop~ than any other
substance.
"Oh, morning garments, sir! Reading and walking-coats, for erudition
and the promenade, sir! Looks well with vest of the same material,
sprinkled down with coral currant buttons! We've some sweet things in
vests, sir; and some neat, quiet trouserings, that I'm sure would give
satisfaction." And the tailor and robe-maker, between washings with
the invisible soap, so visibly "soaped" our hero in what is
understood to
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 93]
be the shop-sense of the word, and so surrounded him with a perfect
irradiation of aggressive patterns of oriental gorgeousness, that Mr.
Verdant Green <VG093.JPG> became bewildered, and finally made choice
of one of the unpretending gentlemanly ~mop~-like coats, and "vest
and trouserings," of a neat, quiet, plaid-pattern, in red and green,
which, he was informed, were all the rage.
When these had been sent home to him, together with a neck-tie of
Oxford-blue from Randall's, and an immaculate guinea
Lincoln-and-Bennett, our hero was delighted with the general effect
of the costume; and after calling in at the tailor's to express his
approbation, he at once sallied forth to "do the High," and display
his new purchases. A drawn silk bonnet of pale lavender, from which
floated some bewitching ringlets, quickly attracted our hero's
attention; and the sight of an arch, French-looking face, which (to
his short-sighted imagination) smiled upon him as the young lady
rustled by, immediately plunged him into the depths of first-love.
Without the slightest encouragement being given him, he stalked this
little deer to her lair, and, after some difficulty, discovered the
enchantress to be Mademoiselle Mouslin de Laine, one of the presiding
goddesses of a fancy hosiery warehouse. There, for the next fortnight,
- until which immense period his ardent passion had not subsided, -
our hero was daily to be seen purchasing articles for which he had no
earthly use, but fully recompensed for his outlay by the artless
(ill-natured people said, artful) smiles, and engaging, piquant
conversation of mademoiselle. Our hero, when reminded of this at a
subsequent period, protested that he had thus acted merely to improve
his French, and only conversed with mademoiselle for educational
purposes. But we have our doubts. ~Credat Judaeus!~
About this time also our hero laid the nest-eggs for a very pro-
[94 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
mising brood of bills, by acquiring an expensive habit of strolling
in to shops, and purchasing "an extensive assortment of articles of
<VG094.JPG> every description," for no other consideration than that
he should not be called upon to pay for them until he had taken his
degree. He also decorated the walls of his rooms with choice
specimens of engravings: for the turning over of portfolios at
Ryman's, and Wyatt's, usually leads to the eventual turning over of a
considerable amount of cash; and our hero had not yet become
acquainted with the cheaper circulating-system of pictures, which
gives you a fresh set every term, and passes on your old ones to some
other subscriber. But, in the meantime, it is very delightful, when
you admire any thing, to be able to say, "Send that to my room!" and
to be obsequiously obeyed, "no questions asked," and no payment
demanded; and as for the future, why - as Mr. Larkyns observed, as
they strolled down the High - "I suppose the bills ~will~ come in
some day or other, but the governor will see to them; and though he
may grumble and pull a long face, yet he'll only be too glad you've
got your degree, and, in the fulness of his heart, he will open his
cheque-book. I daresay old Horace gives very good advice when he
says, 'carpe diem'; but when he adds, 'quam minimum credula
postero,'* about 'not giving the least credit to the succeeding day,'
it is clear that he never looked forward to the Oxford tradesmen and
the credit-system. Do you ever read Wordsworth, Verdant?" continued
Mr. Larkyns, as they stopped at the corner of Oriel Street, to look
in at a spacious range of shop-windows, that were crowded with a
costly and glittering profusion of ~papier mache~ articles,
statuettes, bronzes, glass, and every kind of "fancy goods" that
could be classed as "art-workmanship."
"Why, I've not read much of Wordsworth myself," replied
---
* Car. i. od. xi.
-=-
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 95]
our hero; "but I've heard my sister Mary read a great deal of his
poetry."
"Shews her taste," said Charles Larkyns. "Well, this shop - you see
the name - is Spiers'; and Wordsworth, in his sonnet to Oxford, has
immortalized him. Don't you remember the lines?-
'O ye Spiers of Oxford! your presence overpowers
The soberness of reason!'*
It was very queer that Wordsworth should ascribe to Messrs. Spiers
all the intoxication of the place; but then he was a <VG095.JPG>
Cambridge man, and prejudiced. Nice shop, though, isn't it?
Particularly useful, and no less ornamental. It's one of the
greatest lounges of the place. Let us go in and have a look at what
Mrs. Caudle calls the articles of bigotry and virtue."
Mr. Verdant Green was soon deeply engaged in an inspection of those
~papier-mache~ "remembrances of Oxford" for which the Messrs. Spiers
are so justly famed; but after turning over tables, trays, screens,
desks, albums, portfolios, and other things, - all of which displayed
views of Oxford from every variety of aspect, and were executed with
such truth and perception of the higher qualities of art, that they
formed in
---
* We suspect that Mr. Larkyns is again intentionally deceiving his
freshman friend; for on looking into our Wordsworth (~Misc. Son.~
iii. 2) we find that the poet does ~not~ refer to the establishment
of Messrs. Spiers and Son, and that the lines, truly quoted, are,
"O ye ~spires~ of Oxford! domes and towers!
Gardens and groves! Your presence," &c.
We blush for Mr. Larkyns!
-=-
[96 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]
themselves quite a small but gratuitous Academy exhibition, - our hero
became so confused among the bewildering allurements around him, as
to feel quite an ~embarras de richesses~, and to be in a state of
mind in which he was nearly giving Mr. Spiers the most extensive (and
expensive) order which probably that gentleman had ever received from
an undergraduate. Fortunately for his purse, his attention was
somewhat distracted by perceiving that Mr. Slowcoach was at his
elbow, looking over ink-stands and reading-lamps, and also by Charles
Larkyns calling upon him to decide whether he should have the
cigar-case he had purchased emblazoned with the heraldic device of
the Larkyns, or illuminated with the Euripidean motto,-
{To bakchikon doraema labe, se gar philo.}
When this point had been decided, Mr. Larkyns proposed to Verdant
that he should astonish and delight his governor by having the Green
arms emblazoned on a fire-screen, and taking it home with him as a
gift. "Or else," he said, "order one with the garden-view of
Brazenface, and then they'll have more satisfaction in looking at
that than at one of those offensive cockatoos, in an arabesque
landscape, under a bronze sky, which usually sprawls over every thing
that is ~papier mache~. But you won't see that sort of thing here; so
you can't well go wrong, whatever you buy." Finally, Mr. Verdant
Green (N.B. Mr. Green, senior, would have eventually to pay the bill)
ordered a fire-screen to be prepared with the family-arms, as a
present for his father; a ditto, with the view of his college, for
his mother; a writing-case, with the High Street view, for his aunt;
a netting-box, card-case, and a model of the Martyrs' Memorial, for
his three sisters; and having thus bountifully remembered his
family-circle, he treated himself with a modest paper-knife, and was
treated in return by Mr. Spiers with a perfect ~bijou~ of art, in the
shape of "a memorial for visitors to Oxford," in which the chief
glories of that city were set forth in gold and colours, in the most
attractive form, and which our hero immediately posted off to the
Manor Green.
"And now, Verdant," said Mr. Larkyns, "you may just as well get a
hack, and come for a ride with me. You've kept up your riding, of
course."
"Oh, yes - a little!" faltered our hero.
Now, the reader may perhaps remember, that in an early part of our
veracious chronicle we hinted that Mr. Verdant Green's equestrian
performances were but of a humble character. They were, in fact,
limited to an occasional ride with his sisters when they required a
cavalier; but on these occasions, the old cob, which Verdant called
his own, was warranted not
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 97]
to kick, or plunge, or start, or do anything derogatory to its age
and infirmities. So that Charles Larkyns' proposition caused him
some little nervous agitation; nevertheless, as he was ashamed to
confess his fears, he, in a moment of weakness, consented to
accompany his friend.
"We'll go to Symonds'," said Mr. Larkyns; "I keep my hack there; and
you can depend upon having a good one."
So they made their way to Holywell Street, and turned under a
gateway, and up a paved yard, to the stables. The upper part of the
yard was littered down with straw, and covered in by a light, open
roof; and in the stables there was accommodation for a hundred
horses. At the back of the stables, and separated from the Wadham
Gardens by a narrow lane, was a paddock; and here they found Mr.
Fosbrooke, and one or two of his friends, inspecting the leaping
abilities of a fine hunter, which one of the stable-boys was taking
backwards and forwards over the hurdles and fences erected for that
purpose.
The horses were soon ready, and Verdant summoned up enough courage to
say, with the Count in ~Mazeppa~, "Bring forth the steed!" And when
the steed was brought, in all the exuberance of (literally) animal
spirits, h
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